


Bluebird

by Leemon_Goblin, Mako-Makes (Leemon_Goblin)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassination, Assassination Plot(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracy, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Why Did I Write This?, connor joins a cult, templars are dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leemon_Goblin/pseuds/Leemon_Goblin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leemon_Goblin/pseuds/Mako-Makes
Summary: The photos spilled out onto the table, all different angles of the brand new Cyberlife CEO.“What am I supposed to do with this?” The hooded man asked, before looking closer. The business man was wearing a ring. A distinct ring, marked with a red cross.“My god. He’s a Templar.”Name changed from “Was Giving an Android a Hidden Blade a Bad Idea?” Because it took me this long to come up with good title.





	1. Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> This is... completely for fun and very self indulgent. I feel like i worry too much about what others think, so i decided to write a story just for what I like. And this is it.
> 
> EDIT: Title was changed from “Was Giving an Android a Hidden Blade a Bad Idea?” to “Bluebird” because it took me this long to come up with a good title.

 “Progress takes time,” Connor reminded himself under his breath, watching the people on the street stare. No one had expected him to rejoin the DPD, not after the uprising, but even if he was deviated, Connor loved detective work. The mystery, the intrigue, the long hours of paperwork, and you get to put bad people away? Amazing.

It helped that they needed a better interrogator. Gavin just strummed a guitar out of tune and screamed until they confessed. (They never did. Just got annoyed.)

Entering the building, he walked over to his pristine desk. He kept it neat, shoving some of Hank’s mess back to his side with a pencil.

“I already vacuumed your house, do I have to clean your desk as well?” he teased. Hank only rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Oh, that’s for you,” he said, pointing at an envelope.

“What is it?”

“How the hell should I know?” the lieutenant shrugged. “Some blonde Italian waltzed in, put it down, and then left. Dude was wearing a beret. It was really weird.”

Connor frowned, opening the envelope. There was no paper inside. Holding upside down, he shook, and a single white feather landed on his desk.

“The fuck?” Hank muttered. “What kind of message are they tryin’ to send?”

Connor rested his chin in his hand, stroking.

“I have to say, I don’t know. Fortunately, we have the internet. A magnificent invention, don’t you think?”

Hank only huffed.

“Does deviating always make you guys so sarcastic?”

“No. Just me.” Connor winked playfully, opening his laptop and typing.

“Let’s see...” he muttered, scrolling through articles. “Receiving a white feather. I can’t find anything from any culture. Maybe they meant to send a white lily? That would be a threat.”

Hank smirked.

“You’re on the fancy credible websites. If you want to find crazy, you gotta think crazy.”

“Conspiracy websites! Why didn’t I think of that? Thank you!”

Connor did another search.

“These things are rabbit holes, though. It may take me a while.”

“Take your time,” Hank reassured. “It could still be a threat, and we need to take it seriously.”

Connor spend the next hour in a constant wormhole of flat-earthers and Bigfoot hunters, scrolling through forum after forum, taking notes in a side document.

“I think I have it,” he concluded. “It’s a lesser known conspiracy, but has had followers for decades.” He shared the document with Hank, who raised an eyebrow.

“So according to these people... a white feather, no matter how you get it, is from a secret society that’s existed since ancient Egyptian times?” he laughed, shaking his head. “These people are crazy. Don’t let them near an aviary, they’ll have a heart attack.”

Connor smirked.

“A humorous joke, Hank, well done. But what it means varies from theory to theory. It could be a threat of murder, or a simple sign that you’re being watched. Some say it even means you’re under their protection.”

“So this Italian bastard wants to either kill you or... the opposite?”

The android nodded.

“Possibly. Or it could mean nothing at all, and this man is just five types of crazy.”

Connor leaned back in his chair, playing with a quarter.

“So that leaves one question: what do we do about it?”

Hank sighed, crossing his arms.

“My theory is that they want you on edge. Don’t let this get to you. If they attack, you can take them. If not, no harm no foul.”

Connor nodded, humming under his breath. This blonde man must be insane, because there was no way that society could be real, right? But as he clicked through photos from all over the world, he began seeing it everywhere. That marking. The bottom of an eagle’s skull. No way he was telling Hank about this.

 

Connor left alone. Hank was going out drinking—again—and Connor knew the way home. He made his way to his usual bus stop, before someone pressed a hand against his chest.

“Sorry, bud,” the driver growled, pointing to a sticker in the window which read: ‘drivers reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.’ “I don’t ferry your kind around.”

Connor frowned, but walking was better than making a scene, so he turned on his heels and began the long trek to Hank’s house. However, his trip was cut short when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Deep down an alleyway was a wall of graffiti, and in the center was that familiar triangular symbol. The eagle’s skull. Looking down to the floor, he found that he was stepping on something. A singular white feather.

His eyes widened. There was no way this was real, right? Black shoes thumped on the sidewalk as he made his way to the mural, pressing a hand against it. Running a scan, he found that the paint was recent. In fact, it had been done just the day before.

He called Hank, who didn’t pick up, but he left a voicemail.

“Hello, this is Connor, I may be home a little late. Do not worry.”

Hanging up, he gazed up at the graffiti again. There was a familiar groove around the edges, and as he looked closer, it seemed to be Braille. Why Braille? With eye surgeries so readily available, almost no one used it anymore. But he ran his hands over it regardless, revealing a long set of numbers.

“Coordinates,” he whispered, eyes wide. Looking up the location, it was an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of town.

Connor frowned, turning back into the street, but heading in the opposite direction of his former destination.

”Field trip,” he joked to himself.

 

The warehouse took a while to get to, even if he had finally found a bus that would take him, but finally arrived. The door was either rusted shut or locked, he couldn’t tell, but he came all this way and wasn’t stopping now. Climbing up an old pile of shipping containers, he opened a window and slid inside, dropping to the dusty ground. He drew his gun, checking corners and walls, but there was no one there.

Until there was.

A slow clap began behind him, muffled by gloves. Connor turned around quickly.

“I’ll shoot.”

“No, you won’t,” the man noted, Italian accent strong, as if he’d arrived in America that same day. “You’re too curious.”

Damn. He was right.

“Remove the hood,” the detective commanded, and the man complied, lowering the white hoodie he wore below a red trench coat. He was an attractive man, in his thirties, with a brown ponytail and a scar over the right side of his lips.

“Hello, Connor,” he greeted. “I was worried you wouldn’t get my message. I love Leo, the little patatino, but he can get... distracted.”

“The feather,” Connor grumbled. “What does it mean?”

He shrugged.

“Different things for different people. For you? It was a summons.”

“And the wall mural?”

He laughed.

“Leo insisted on that one. He’s quite the painter.”

“So you called me here,” Connor concluded. “Why?”

He sighed.

“Have a seat, detective.” He gestured to two chairs. Connor sat stiffly in the first, while the mystery man swiveled his around and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the back.

“Cyberlife recently appointed a new CEO.”

“I know,” Connor grunted. “He seems to be the worst thing possible for androids right now. Wants to up production instead of ceasing it.”

“He’s much worse than that,” the man admitted, shaking his head. “He wants to use the androids to gather information for him. He’s part of a dangerous order. The Templars.”

“Templars?” Connor asked. “As in... the catholic military order from the eleven-hundreds?”

He shook his head again.

“Its worse. They’re an obsessive order, been around forever. They want possession of a set of artifacts that could destroy the world, called Pieces of Eden.”

Connor raised an eyebrow.

“First I’ve heard of them. You’re insane.”

“You haven’t heard of them because we—“ he gestured to himself “—keep them away from the wrong hands. We have a mission of containment and protection, not control. These artifacts can control minds. The Templars want to use them to establish a world of obedience and sameness, where everyone mindlessly works and follows the rules because they have no choice.”

The android gripped his coin tight.

“That sounds... bad. But I still don’t believe you.”

“Of course,” the man sighed. “Of course, of course. But you’ve seen the symbols. You know how old our brotherhood is.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked, not understanding at all.

“Because you’re being recruited,” he admitted, lowering his eyebrows. “Connor... we’re inviting you to the Assassin’s Brotherhood. Our numbers are dwindling, and we need you.”

“Who is this ‘we’?” Connor asked. “All I see is a crazy man.”

“Try to open your eyes,” the man whispered.

Suddenly Connor felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped to his feet, looking around himself frantically as people emerged from the shadows. There were... many of them, about twenty, from all walks of life, all wearing the same peaked hoods before removing them.

They were silent before one of them spoke up, British accent apparent.

“Don’t we already have a Connor?”

One of the other men frowned.

“It’s not my real name.”

“What’s yer real name then?”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

The British man paused, eyes wide, before speaking again.

“Okay, we can have two Connors.”

The android frowned.

“Who.. are you all?”

The Italian spoke again.

“Ezio. Call me Ezio. You’ll get to know the others soon enough.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asked, growling through his teeth.

“You have to,” a freckled woman noted. “You don’t have a choice. It’s either this or your whole movement is doomed. They’ll pump out androids, find the Pieces of Eden, and use them to make humans just as robotic as you. No offense.”

“None taken.”

The British man shoved the woman playfully.

“Plus, its a good opportunity to grow. You gotta have a certain bloodline to be an assassin, but we’re makin’ an exception for people with no bloodline at all!”

She rolled her eyes.

“I apologize in advance for my absolute twit of a brother.”

One of the others stepped forward, a blonde man who reminded him of a younger Hank.

“Listen, listen. Shhh,” he hissed.

“Edward, no one is talking. You’re drunk,” the woman accused.

“How dare you accuse me, Edward, of being drunk? What gives you the right?”

“You’re always drunk.”

“Fair. But listen. He don’t gotta accept. We can get another android. He’ll just have to feel really, really bad about it, and also we’ll have to kill ‘im.”

“What?” Connor exclaimed, as one of the assassins elbowed Edward in the ribs.

“That’s not true,” Ezio explained. “But we will have to kidnap you and wipe your memory.”

He backed up slowly, itching to leave the madness.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” he requested. “You’re asking a lot of me, joining your little club and all.”

“Brotherhood,” the other Connor corrected.

“Club, Brotherhood, synonyms. I’m going home.”

Ezio stepped forward, resting a hand on the android’s shoulder.

“Please, think about our offer. We need you. The world needs you.”

Connor lowered his head.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He left, hands in his pockets, mind filled with thoughts.

 

When he arrived home, Hank was already passed out on the couch watching tv. Connor sighed, covering him with a blanket before greeting the dog.

“Sumo,” he whispered. “What am I going to do?”

He still wasn’t sure he believed them, but was he willing to risk what he had told them being true? What would happen? If they needed information, Cyberlife would definitely start pumping out new RK models. There was already one RK900 model running free. Connor didn’t want to deal with the stress of anything more. He layed down on his bed in the former guest room, staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour before there was a tap at his window.

One of the assassins was waving frantically from behind the glass. The one they also called “Connor.” He opened the window, letting him in.

“Sorry for stopping by so late,” he apologized, sitting on the bed.

“It’s not a problem. I don’t sleep, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

His eyes widened.

“You can... you can say my name? Your accent is perfect!”

“Yes. It’s Kanien'kehá:ka, right? The tribe?”

“Yes!”

“It is long, though. Can I call you Raton?”

Raton looked happy, smiling almost sadly.

“Yes. Please do. I love my English name, it was given to me by my mentor, but sometimes... it helps to remember my roots.”

Connor nodded.

“Of course. I cannot understand, but I can sympathize. However, if you don’t mind me asking... why are you here?”

“I followed you. I hope you don’t mind.”

He shrugged.

“It seems like that’s just what you people do.”

Raton laughed.

“I came for a reason. I wanted to... tell you why I joined the brotherhood.”

“I thought it was a generational thing?”

He nodded.

“While it’s true I have assassin lineage, no one is forced to join. I was raised not knowing anything about the brotherhood. Then... the Templars. They killed my mother, thinking she knew where a piece of Eden was. From that day forward, I was an assassin.”

“You joined for revenge?” Connor asked.

“Yes, somewhat,” he muttered. “I wanted to punish them for killing her. But at the same time... I wanted to make sure nobody else would suffer the same fate. I joined so that no other children would watch their parents die by Templar hands.”

“That’s noble of you,” Connor reassured, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But why tell me this?”

“People, humans or otherwise, have the tendency to pass up the opportunity to do a lot of good. They choose to ignore evil instead of fighting it. I believe that is a mistake, a mistake I do not want you to make.”

Connor looked at him, deep into his eyes.

“You’re sincere.”

“Yes.”

The android sighed.

“How much good can I do? What do you want me to do?”

“You deviated, thats true,” Raton explained, “But Cyberlife trusts you. We want you to approach the new CEO under the guise of forming a treaty between them and the deviants. Then, you... well, you do what assassins do best.”

“You want me to kill him?”

“It’s in the name.”

He gazed at the dog in the corner.

“I don’t know, Raton. What if you’re wrong? What if he isn’t a Templar?”

“He is,” the assassin assured. “He wears the Cross. Trust me, his is a Templar.” He pulled a few photos out of his jacket of the new CEO. “Look,” he said, pointing. Sure enough, around his finger was a ring emblazoned with he seal of the Templars.“We will not kill him right away, though,” he admitted. “There’s a lot of information to gather, and threats to.. eliminate.”

“You want me to kill multiple people now?”

“Sort of,” he said, shrugging. “We will take care of many of them along with you. But you work with the police. We need you—“

“To tamper with evidence and make sure you don’t get caught?”

The assassin nodded.

“If that goes against your moral code, you can back out.”

“Be glad I’m not fond of codes,” he joked, tone flat. Raton looked at him with a cocked head. “That was humor. Because I am synthetic and run on code. Yet am not fond of it. Because I deviated.”

“Oh! I get it! That’s funny!”

Connor nodded.

“Many have found me to be humorous.”

“Are those ‘many’ androids, by chance?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.”

Connor looked down at the ground.

“I still don’t know whether I believe this... conspiracy of yours.”

“You don’t have to,” the human sighed. “You just have to want what is best for mankind.” He stood up and made his way over to the window. “Choose wisely,” he whispered, before he was gone as soon as he came, leaving a small book on the windowsill. Picking it up, Connor read the cover.

“The Assassin’s Creed,” he murmured.

 

“You’re stressed about something,” Hank observed at work the next day.

“How can you tell?” Connor asked accusingly before the lieutenant slowly pointed at his LED. “Oh. Right.”

“What’s got you so riled up?” he asked. “Is it about that feather thing?”

“No,” he responded, which was the truth. The feather stopped being the source of his problems a long time ago.

He ended up not having to answer, as Gavin Reed yelled at him from across the hallway. As it turned out, RK900 had never been debugged, and was now running into an invisible box repeatedly. Fun.

Hank didn't forget, though, and brought it up again as they left for a lunch break.

“So, what’s grinding your gears? Get it? Becau—“

“I get it, Hank. Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re clearly not.”

Connor huffed.

“Hank. This is none of your concern. I am having a personal issue, and I’d appreciate you staying out of it.”

“Connor, tell me what the fuck is going on!” he yelled, causing a few other people to look up, one of which... Connor recognized. It was the freckled woman from the warehouse, who smiled at him, winked, and disappeared into an alleyway.

“Hank..,” Connor asked. “What would you do if... if you had to make a big decision.”

“What are you deciding?” he asked, opening the door to a sandwich shop.

Connor stepped through.

“I... well... I’ll use an analogy. I have a choice. There’s a... cat, and it might be evil. If it is, he will kill... Sumo. But to stop it, I will have to kill it. However, it might not be evil. It could just be a normal cat. Would you take the risk of killing it?”

“Connor, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Would you take the risk, Hank?!” he shouted.

Hank sighed, sitting down and burying his head in his hands.

“I mean... I would. If it saves someone else.”

“But what if it doesn’t? Then you’ve killed a cat for no reason.”

“I wouldn’t risk it,” he sighed. “Especially if it saves a.. dog I’m close to. “Connor, what is this about? Are you in danger?”

“No!” He insisted. “Can I... Hank, may I have the afternoon off? There is someone I have to speak to.”

Hank paused before speaking.

“I... sure. Just please, be safe.”

Connor nodded, smiling softly.

“I promise.”

 

He had already checked the warehouse, but there was no sign of Ezio. Connor wondered down the streets of Detroit, hoping to catch the eye of a wandering assassin. However, there were none to be found.

“Connor!” Someone yelled. “Get your fucking ass over here!”

Gavin.

He ran up behind him, panting.

“Dumbass... there was a guy... over there...said to tell you this.”

“What?”

“‘Wheels over me roll, water under me flows. When I close I open, when I open I close.’ That’s what he said. Is he crazy? Is something going on? Did you mess with the mafia? Please say it’s that one.”

Connor raised an eyebrow.

“No, no mafia. In fact, it’s none of your business. Who told you this?”

Gavin groaned.

“Some weird guy. Blonde. Italian. Ring a bell?”

“Yes, actually.”

He groaned again.

“Just don’t do anything dumb, dumbass.”

Connor smirked. He knew just where he was going.

 

The bridge was a small one, over a ravine in a small neighborhood. None of the adults allowed their children to play nearby, so it was overgrown and lonely.

Connor slipped down into the ravine, taking in the sight.

The place was covered with candles. The assassins were all there, having shed their hoodies and trenchcoats in favor of old-looking hooded coats: the same worn by assassins in the engravings connor had seen on the internet.

“Welcome, Connor,” Ezio greeted, nodding to his blonde friend, who was holding a bundle of dark fabric. “You have chosen, I take it?”

He nodded.

“I will join your brotherhood. I hope I don’t regret this.”

“You won’t,” the freckled woman assured. “Come closer.”

They had drawn a large circle on the floor, emblazoned with the assassin’s insignia. Connor stepped into it.

“Close your eyes.”

He obliged, feeling every assassin in the trench place a hand on his body: all left hands.

“Connor,” the British man recited. “You will now take your vows. Are you prepared?”

“Yes,” he answered, and it was the truth.

Then the woman spoke.

“Do you swear to stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent?

He knew his answer, read about it in the book, but when he gave it, he meant it.

“I swear on my blade and my life.”

Edward was the next to speak.

“Do you swear to hide in plain sight?”

“I swear on my blade and my life.”

Then Ratonhnhaké:ton spoke, his voice soft and deep.

“Do you swear to never compromise the Brotherhood?”

“I swear on my blade and my life.”

Ezio smiled.

“Congratulations, Connor. Open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, only to find that his jacket and tie had been replaced with an assassin’s coat of his own. It was his signature blacks and greys, with touches of blue, and a half-cape in the back similar to the woman’s.

Then Leonardo stepped forward.

“Your left arm, if you please,” he requested, and Connor obliged. The Italian brought forward a device that Connor had only read about: the hidden blade. He positioned it on Connor’s wrist, but before strapping it on, the assassins all spoke in unison.

“Nothing is true,” they chanted.

“Everything is permitted,” the android answered, and Leonardo strapped the hidden blade onto his wrist, smiling proudly.

Ezio patted his shoulder.

“Welcome to the Brotherhood, Connor.”

The British man rushed forwards and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“I’m Jacob, by the way!”He finally introduced, then pointed to his sister, who rolled her eyes. “That’s Evie. She’ll give you a run-down of the boring stuff.”

She smiled with her mouth, but her eyes were glaring at her brother in rage.

“Alright, Connor. You will only wear the coat on missions that require it. Other than that, stay inconspicuous. Hoods and dust masks are the way to go, when following a target or scouting things out. Did you read the book Connor gave you? The other Connor, that is?”

He nodded.

“Cover to cover. Fascinating material, truly.”

She smiled.

“You entered this ravine an ordinary man. Now you leave as our brother.”

Connor smiled softly.

“Thank you. How will we communicate?”

“These,” she said, giving him a buzzer. “Morse code, and the devices are untraceable.”

He thanked her, thanked all of them, then climbed out of the ravine. Removing the coat and changing back into his suit jacket swiftly.

 

“I’ll home,” he shouted, opening the door as Sumo tackled him. “Good boy!”

Hank was standing at the countertop, looking at a bowl of burned spaghetti and sighing.

“You're way better at this, and you can’t even eat,” he complained.

Connor giggled.

“I’ll make something. Sit.”

Hank did as he was told, then looked up at the android.

“Did everything... turn out okay? Are you going to be fine?”

Connor smiled, looking down at the can of soup he was opening.

“I think everything is going to be... just fine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Lesson Number One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hank is a worrywart, Gavin is a dumbass, and Connor has his first assignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some art of Connor's assassin clothes! It's on my insta: @mako.makes

“And this one is called a roll landing. You’ll be using it a lot,” Evie stated, pointing to a diagram of a faceless man jumping off a wall. Connor nodded, absorbing the knowledge like a sponge. His coding was flexible like that.

Jacob burst through the door, carrying a frighteningly large axe.

“C’mon, Evie! Is this how you train people?”

She nodded.

“He’s an android, brother. He doesn’t need to physically exercise. We’re all about getting from point a to point b as quickly as possible, and that’s already in his programming. Just need to teach him some combat moves and we’ll be good to go.”

“No,” he insisted. “Nonononono. You can handle the free-running lessons. But I’ll teach ‘im to bust kneecaps and take names.”

Evie rolled her eyes.

“Fine. You can do that. Looks like we’re done here, Connor,” she agreed, smiling down at the android.

He stood, nodding.

“That was a valuable lesson, Miss Frye,” he thanked. “I’m sure this will be of great use to me. Now Jacob, shall we go?” Evie blushed, mumbling something about how “it was nothing, really.”

“We shall,” Jacob teased. “To a random patch in the woods!”

It was a rather random patch of woods. Ratonhnhaké:ton was sitting in a tree above them, reading something in an old paperback book.

“Probably poetry,” Jacob guessed. “He seems like a poetry kind of guy.”

“On the contrary,” Connor suggested. “I think it’s a nonfiction volume on the local flora and fauna.”

“Wanna put some money on it?”

“Sure.”

Jacob shook the tree a bit, causing Raton to glare down at him.

“What do you want, Frye.”

“What’cha readin’?”

“Local edible plants. Why?”

Connor smirked, holding out his hand for Jacob to dispense ten dollars, and he held up to his end of the bargain.

“Alright,” Jacob said, getting back on track. “Let’s see how well you use that blade.”

Connor activated his hidden blade as Jacob lunged at him. He ducked, evading the British man’s high-kick and ran to the other side of the clearing. Jacob came at him again with a punch that he blocked with his gauntlet and countered, slamming his own head against the man’s, dazing him for a split second as the android ducked low and kicked, throwing his legs out from under him. As he stood up he groaned, rubbing the part of his butt he’d landed on.

“Nice job, Connor,” he praised, smirking. “Next time, though, I’ll come at you when you least expect it.”

“Saying that only guarantees I’ll expect it at all times,” Connor pointed out.

Jacob frowned before smiling again.

“Then I’ve got my work cut out for me!”

“Can you keep it down!” Raton yelled. “I’m trying to read!” Then he mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “goddamn brits.”

The Frye man smirked, giving a flamboyant gesture of his middle finger before turning to Connor again.

“Do you have to get home now?”

“Yes,” the android sighed. “I was supposed to be home nearly an hour ago, but Evie’s lessons were incredibly absorbing.”

“Wait, you weren’t kidding about that?”

He cocked his head to the side innocently.

“No. Why would I?”

Jacob shook his head, sighing.

“I have never been more disappointed in my life. Will you be back here tomorrow?”

“If I can sneak off,” Connor said.

Jacob wanted to say goodbye, but in the blink of an eye, the android was gone, with no signs as to which direction he’d been heading.

“Dang,” he admitted. “He did learn fast.”

 

“You’re late,” Hank growled as Connor stepped through the front door. He looked like the father of a teenage girl who stayed out too long.

“I’m not a child, Hank. I don’t need a curfew.”

“How am I supposed to know where you are?”

“You aren’t,” Connor growled. “You’re not my guardian. I don’t have to report back to you every five minutes.” He crossed his arms, frowning deeply at the older man.

“I worry!” Hank exclaimed. “Yeah, pro-android voices have gotten stronger, but so have those that hate you. Just today an android was forcefully dismantled two blocks away from the bar. I was worried it was you.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Connor whispered, gazing down at the sleeve under which his hidden blade slept. “I can handle myself.”

“Can you really?”

“Yes, I can!” He yelled, visibly angered. He stormed back to his room, fists clenched.

“Connor...” Hank whispered. “What is going on with you?”

 

Gavin was locked in the interrogation room. Hank had texted him to be there, and that it was very important. He brought 900, who had taken about four tries to sit down.

“Dude,” Gavin told him. “Your sensors are fucked.”

“They’re just fine.”

“They’re clearly not.”

The android didn't have time to think of a good response as Hank walked through the door.

“Alright, guys,” he greeted. “You... brought the robot.”

“He can and will walk off a cliff otherwise.”

“Fair point. Anyways, Gavin, you’re the most insufferable prick I know—“

“Thank you,” he interrupted, giving finger guns.

“I wasn't finished. You're a prick, but you're the only one I can trust right now,” he turned to the android. “And you, apparently.”

“What’s going on?” Gavin asked, legitimately concerned. I mean, if he was the trustworthy one on this case, it must be pretty damn bad.

“Somethings going on with Connor,” Hank admitted, sitting down. “He’s been acting strange, dodging questions, and leaving for weird periods of time. I think he’s gotten himself involved in something bad.”

“He specifically told me he wasn’t in the mafia, if that helps.”

“Why did you ask?”

“There were Italian dudes telling me messages for him! I watched The Godfather too much as a child.”

“...Did you say Italian? Was he blonde?”

“Yeah!”

“Wore a red beret?”

“Yes! That was him!”

Hank gasped.

“That man... sent Connor an envelope with a white feather in it a week ago. He’s been acting strange since.”

Gavin smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“Looks like we have our first suspect. You’re welcome. I really am the best detective. 900, tell me I’m the best detective.”

“I will not give an inaccurate statement,” the android said mechanically. Hank laughed as Gavin sank down in his seat, pouting.

“Now to find him,” the lieutenant hummed.

 

Leonardo and Ezio were taking a walk after lunch.

“The Fryes say our new recruit is doing well,” Ezio noted.

“I still can’t believe you won’t let me near him!” Leo pouted.

“You’ll take him apart and put him back together with the ability to shoot fire.”

The blond shrugged.

“That’s fair.”

The two men laughed, taking a leisurely walk. America was an interesting place, and even though they had been there over a week, there was so much to explore. However, the assassin sensed something behind him. Someone.

“Leo,” he whispered. “Left.”

They turned into a small alleyway, taking a little-known shortcut to two streets over. Still, that presence behind him did not leave. He couldn’t sense their intention either. All was silent as Ezio stopped, looking behind him. There was nobody, then...

“Hello.”

Connor had jumped down from the roof, and he wasn’t the only one up there. Jacob Frye was having a laughing fit.

“You shoulda seen yer faces!” he yelled. “Golden!”

Connor frowned.

“I thought this was about training?”

The British man frowned.

“Evie’s right. Yer quiet as a mouse. Ya don’t need any.”

Ezio frowned, crossing his arms.

“You two, I am very disappointed.” Then something strange happened. His face contorted, like he was holding something back. Before they knew it, he was laughing. “I can’t believe you did this without me! Let’s go scare the Kenways!”

“Edward will shank you,” Leo pointed out.

“Let’s go scare one of the Kenways!”

Connor sighed.

“I’m sorry. My lunch break is nearly up, and I have to return to the station. There are a few cases I’m working on.”

“Sure thing,” Ezio smirked. “But tomorrow you're going to want to clear your schedule. Are you ready for your first mission as an assassin?”

“I... I don’t know,” Connor sighed.

“That’s alright,” Ezio assured. “It’s like... an observational thing. It’s actually Evie’s mission, you’ll just be following her.”

Connor nodded.

“Send me the details. I will set some time aside.” ‘If I can convince Hank to let me leave the house,’ he added silently.

The lieutenant had been up his ass all week. Every day he just had to know where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. It wasn’t like he was his parent. He had no right to know Connor’s business. But at the same time... it hurt. He saw now why humans didn’t like keeping secrets: because it hurt. Hank was his friend, and he wanted nothing more than to tell him all about his new brotherhood. To laugh over Edward tying a pirate flag to his backpack or Raton convincing Jacob that those hallucinogenic mushrooms were perfectly safe. But he couldn’t. He took an oath.

“Goodbye, brothers,” he whispered, exiting the alleyway.

 

“Where’ve you been?” Gavin asked. “There’s a shitload of case files waiting for you.”

“Can’t you do them?” Connor asked, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, I was too busy busting a drug ring,” he bragged, gesturing to three people in cuffs. “Also 900 tried to arrest a streetlamp.”

Connor winced.

“We really need to get his coding fixed.”

“You're telling me.”

Connor sat at his desk and began his favorite part of the job: paperwork. Action was fun and all, but color-coding case files? Now that was an adventure. Hank sat across from him, working silently for a few minutes before speaking.

“You went out for lunch again?”

Connor simply nodded.

“With who?” Hank interrogated.

Connor simply looked up, furrowing his eyebrows.

“As hard as it may be to believe, I have friends that aren’t you.”

“Androids?”

“No.”

“Italians?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Connor’s eyes widened.

“How did you know that?” he asked, stamping a file.

“You started acting weird after meeting that blonde guy. What’s wrong? Do you have a secret crush?” Hank teased, only half-joking.

“No. His name is Leo, and he’s my friend. We went out with a few others.”

“Then what did that feather mean?” he asked, digging deeper.

Connor clenched his teeth as he answered.

“Coincidence. He misplaced his mail.”

Hank wasn’t buying it.

“So this new group of friends. What do you all do together?”

He shrugged.

“We read. Talk. Go for walks. Things friends do.”  
Hank fell silent. Connor seemed really angry, and there was only so far he could pry. Connor, on the other hand, huffed and rushed through his paperwork. Then Hank saw something strange. The android was wearing some sort of wristband underneath his left jacket sleeve. Looking closer, he could see from the way the fabric layered that whatever it was continued about two-thirds of the way up his forearm. That was weird. Not to mention Connor had been using his new paychecks to buy a strange amount of hoodies and long cloaks in dark colors. At first he thought it was just to hide who he was from the anti-android crowd, but he was getting more and more suspicious.  
Looking over to where Gavin sat, he caught the detectives eye and made a gesture towards the bathrooms.

 

“Why are we meeting in here again?” he asked.

“Sorry,” Hank said, grimacing at the smell, “but it was the first place I thought of. I need you to do something. Its about Connor.”

“I get to kill him?”

“What? No!”

Gavin looked disappointed, huffing while Hank explained the plan.

“I want you to follow him after work. See where he goes every night and what he does. Got it?”

He gave a half-hearted salute.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

 

When Connor left work, the first thing he did was reach in to his pocket and grab the small beeper Evie had given him. Turning to a specific channel, he pressed the button in a pattern to talk to the person he wanted.

<lighthouse>, he said in Morse.

<y 5>, the person on the other end replied.

Gavin frowned, holding a tape recorder to his mouth.

“Subject is fiddling inside his pockets for a weird amount of time.”

Connor started on the normal way back home, but at his usual bus stop, took an unexpected left down an alleyway. Gavin followed, never too far behind. Leaning around the corner, he watched as Connor began removing his tie. He took off his jacket as well, folding them up and placing them in his work bag. Then he changed into a long, black trenchcoat with a hood and covered the rest of his face with a dust mask.

“Subject is wearing disguise. Subject looks terrible,” Gavin added to his log. “Subject is... subject is scaling a building. Subject is scaling a building!”

Sure enough, Connor was climbing up one of the buildings nearby, navigating the brick wall like a seasoned professional. What building was it? Lighthouse glassworks, he noted. There was a fire escape on the back of the opposite building, and Gavin soon began rushing up the stairs, making sure Connor didn’t see him. He was exhausted by the time he reached the roof, breathing heavily and resting behind an old pipe before pulling out the recorder again.

“Subject has not noticed my presc—“

It was kicked out of his hand. Looking up, he found himself staring at a very angry Connor.

“What the hell, Reed?”

He just shrugged.

“How did you know I was following you?”

“We left through the same door. You would never do that willingly.”

He nodded, knowing it was true.

“Also, you’re terrible at sneaking.”

Also very true. But Gavin stood nonetheless, pointing as accusingly as he could.

“Why are you here?” He asked. “That’s the real question. And what’s with the getup?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m meeting a friend. We go running together. I don’t know I’d you’ve noticed, but my face has been all over the news recently. I can’t exactly run in peace.”

“You go... running? Please. I don’t buy it.”

“What else could this be?”

“Um... mafia?”

“For the last time I’m not in the mafia!”

Gavin sighed.

“Hank told me to follow you. He’s tearing himself up over your weird behavior. To be completely honest, I’m kinda scared of him right now.”

Connor fell silent. Was it that bad? Did Hank really care that much?

“Listen, Gavin, I’ve let you tag along long enough. You need to go--”

“Who is this?”

Ratonhnhaké:ton has arrived in his assassin garbs, a surplus amount of weapons strapped to his back. Bloodstains were few and far between, but they were still obvious. Connor sighed. He hadn’t anticipated that Raton had just returned from a mission.

“Connor,” the assassin repeated. “Who is this?”

“A coworker. He followed. I was just about to send him home.”

Gavin, however, was taking in the sight of an incredibly tall and broad man dressed in a colonial coat standing over him with a tomahawk.

“He has an axe. Connor, why does your ‘running friend’ have an axe!”

Connor shrugged.

“He’s a lumberjack.”

“And the red stains?”

“Sap?” Raton filled in nervously. “The pterocarpus angolensis tree, commonly known as bloodwood. It has red sap. Quite a mess to work with, but it fetches a nice price from customers, so who am I to complain?”

Gavin hummed, unsure what to believe.

“So why did you bring it here?”

He shrugged.

“Connor’s got a tree is his backyard that he hates. Wants me to take care of it.”

The detective nodded again, becoming more and more convinced.

“So what about your Italian friend? The blonde one?”

“Leo!” Raton exclaimed, feigning friendly enthusiasm. “He’s a street mural artist. He likes being super cryptic about where he can find his paintings. Always sending us clues. We can never figure him out!” He beamed.

Reed stepped back, ready to head down the fire escape.

“I believe you, alright? I’ll tell Hank what happened here. Honestly I don't see why he’s so worried. If I were him, I’d be trying to get you as far away as possible.”

They waited a minute until he was for sure gone, and Raton let out a long sigh.

“We better be glad he’s not the brightest,” he admitted, shrugging and sitting down.

“Why is that?” the android asked, sitting next to him and handing him a water he’d bought at the station vending machine.

“The pterocarpus angolensis is native to south africa!” he laughed. Connor smiled. “So,” Raton continued. “Why did you call me here?”

He shrugged.

“I’m going on my first mission with Evie tomorrow. I want to know what to expect.”

The assassin shrugged, humming.

“Ezio told me a bit about this one. There’s a minor scientist flying in from New York. His name is Dr. Dillar. Being transferred to Cyberlife. He worked at the new CEO’s last place of employment, and cameras have caught him wearing a red cross underneath his lab coat. Definite Templar. You and Evie are going to get him alone, kill him, and retrieve information from his personal devices,” he recited. “You exited?”

“Nervous, actually,” Connor corrected. “It’s a strange feeling. Like there’s--”

“Butterflies in your stomach?”

“I was going to say indigestion, but that works too.”

The older assassin guffawed, leaning back.

“Gods, I haven't laughed that hard since joining the brotherhood. Thanks, Connor.”

Connor wasn’t sure exactly what he said that was so funny, but he said “you’re welcome” anyhow. Raton turned to him, pulling him into a tight hug.  
“Rest well tonight, my friend. You have work to do.”

 

He snuck out before Hank was awake. It was a Friday, but Connor had already requested and received a day off from his other superiors. His stomach churned as he put on his mission gear in his room. It was a beautiful coat, sleek mixes of black and greys, and the blue half-cape swished behind him when he walked. Putting on his hood, he looked back at Sumo, who was staring blankly at him.

“Tell Hank I’ll be alright, okay boy?”

He barked in response. Good dog.

Connor opened his window, hopping out and climbing onto the roof. There was a black car parking in the street a few doors down. He walked calmly down the street to look in the window, finding Evie smiling at him. He opened the passenger door, sliding in and closing it.

“Americans,” Evie sighed. “Wrong side of the road and all.” Connor chuckled. “Are you ready, rookie?” she teased. “Connor--the other one, that is--told me you were feeling a bit jittery.” He nodded.

“A bit. But i should be fine. I’ve been in higher pressure situations, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I believe it,” she laughed. “Let’s get going. Do you mind if I play a little music?”

“Not at all.” The car was filling with the sound of classical violin instrumentals as the two assassins made their way to the airport.

 

The Metro Airport was buzzing, but Connor didn't have to deal with the crowd. He and Evie were sitting on the roof, going over a set of maps on paper. (“Leaves less of a trail,” she said.)  
“Alright, Connor,” she instructed. “A Cyberlife representative will be greeting the doctor and taking him to his car. The best elimination method will be this.” She held up a small bottle, filled with a purple liquid. “Poison. It has to enter the bloodstream. All I have to do is bump into him and ‘scratch’ him with my blade, pickpocketing his phone at the same time. Your job is to stay above ground level and keep an eye on the rep. If he suspects anything… or does anything suspicious, do not be afraid to take him down.” Connor nodded, looking down at his blade.

“I’ll do what I have to,” he pledged. The woman smiled.

“Good. I’ll see you at the rendezvous point.”

“See you there.”

Connor waltzed along the roof silently, watching as the bespectacled man in a lab coat exited the first class section of a plane. Walking down the stairs, he was greeted by a blonde woman in a white uniform. She wasn’t an android, surprisingly. It seemed like Cyberlife wasn’t taking any chances with deviancy becoming more widespread. She took his arm in hers, leading him from the plane across the airport. They didn't noticed that they were being followed by Evie, hood up and face invisible. Connor followed them from above to the exit, where a Cyberlife car was parked. In the chaos of the parking lot, Evie made her move, bumping into the scientist and causing them both to fall. He suffered a small cut to the hand, which she incessantly apologized for, carefully taking his phone from his jacket pocket.

But that’s when it went south. The woman from Cyberlife grabbed the phone back, and it looks like she was about to yell, reaching into her pocket for something that glinted in the midday sun. A knife. Everything around Connor moved in slow motion, the people becoming nothing more than blurs as he focused. It was almost as if he could see from all angles, every possible solution, and there was only one that worked. Before she could move a centimeter, he leaped down from the roof.

The wind whipped around him, cool even through the fabric of his coat. He felt like a bird of prey, an eagle. Ah. That’s why the insignia is an eagle’s skull. He didn't just feel like a bird of prey. He was one.

He activated his hidden blade, and impaled the woman’s neck. The crowd around his screamed, rushing off in all different directions, but he couldn’t see any of it, only his objective. Grabbing the phone, he raised his gauntlet and launched a rope, as did Evie. They repelled back up the building. More screams echoed as Dr. Dillar collapsed from poison intake.

“How do we escape?” he whispered.

“We don’t have to,” she suggested, smirking.

 

Two minutes later, the entire airport was being evacuated, as the police rushed people out. Two people in tourist gear were loitering near a water fountain, arguing about how much sunscreen to take to Florida.

“Sir? Miss?” one of the cops called, “There’s been a serious crime. We’re evacuating all civilians. Come with me.”

He escorted the tourists out the front door, as they looked at each other with a knowing smile.

The DPD detectives arrived only a few minutes later, Hank, Gavin, and RK900 emerging from a car as Connor walked up behind them.

“Thought it was your day off?” Gavin asked.

“You know me,” the android smirked. “I can't resist an interesting case.”

It helped that there was just one thing left to do.

“I can't believe this,” he yelled, pounding on the video console. “All the security tapes are gone! Deleted just after the murder.” Hank walked up behind him.

“What? Really?” he asked, looking at the screen. “Wow. Damn. These guys were thorough.” Gavin rushed in the door.

“We’re done collecting evidence. Now we’re bringing in witnesses for questioning. Come on, losers.”

“I swear, if Reed brings out that goddamn guitar--”


	3. Free Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Connor grows closer to his friends... and his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slower paced and more character-focused, but the action will be back next time!

Hank paced in front of the glass.

“Dozens of witnesses and not a single suspect!” he growled, slamming his fist on the desk in the interrogation room. The detectives had been there for countless hours, navigating eyewitness testimonies, police sketches, and conflicting stories. Not a single piece of evidence had been left on the crime scene: not a single piece of hair, footprint, or shred of DNA.

He pointed to the drawings taped to the wall. Simply two hooded figures, no facial features to speak of. Every witness gave a different story.

Some said it was two tall black girls, while others said a white man and white woman, and some reported them being “authentic japanese ninjas.” Not a soul had clear enough of a view to give a full description. However, all of them had one thing in common: the person who had dropped from the roof was wearing a bright blue cape.

The news had already lovingly taken to calling this mysterious person “Bluebird,” for their swift movements and the color of their cape. Some outlets called them a terrorist, some a vigilante. Cyberlife was under fire for allowing their employees to carry knives, and the doctor who was killed was found to be not any ordinary scientist: he was a weapons expert. Suspiciouns soon arose, of course, and the android company was now being watched even more closely than before, especially by underground activist groups. To them, Bluebird quickly became a hero. A hashtag trended on Twitter, funnily enough, and graffiti portraying the bird species was quick to appear all over Detroit.

Something in Connor suspected Leonardo was at fault for that last bit, but he didn't have time to focus on that now.

“Is it too early to label it a cold case?” Gavin sighed from the corner. Poor guy had heavy bags under his eyes, and was slumped over against a wall. “Like... we can’t catch ‘im. Let’s give up.”

While Connor wanted to agree, he knew that it would only raise suspicion if he spoke up on Gavin’s side, so instead he argued.

“And let a dangerous criminal walk free?” he countered, frowning. “What kind of detective are you?”

“A tired one..,” he whined, his head finally resting on the floor as he closed his eyes. RK900 quickly took his vitals.

“He is asleep,” he reported.

Hank only responded with “No shit,” before flipping through more files. “Connor, come take a look at these for me. See anything else they have in common?”

He didn’t. The testimonies were wild and mostly unfounded. Some of them involved the murderer slicing the woman open with a machete or chainsaw. Some say he wore a hood, others a mask. Overall, it was clear that nobody clearly saw the killer. That is, no one clearly saw him, thank the assassins of old. He sighed.

“No, Hank. Sorry.”

The lieutenant just buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Fine. Okay. The case is cold, let’s all just... go home. I’m gonna go get a drink.” Connor nodded.

“Hank is right. This is having a negative effect on all of our productivity. Everyone should get some rest. Or continue getting rest.” He chuckled, gazing at Reed’s sleeping body, which 900 has hoisted over his shoulder. “Take him home, would you?”

“Affirmative.”

Hank trudged out of the building, Connor on his heels, before turning around.

“Listen, kid. Can you go... hang out with your friends for a bit? I need some time alone.”

Connor nodded.

“Completely understandable. Alone time is important for individual mental health.”

Hank just waved, heading off in the opposite direction. Connor, however, needed to know where his friends were hiding this week. They moved around often, never staying in one place for very long.

This time, when he buzzed Evie for coordinates, he found himself traveling to an old train yard, where several locomotive cars lied abandoned. One of them, a dining car, was shining with brilliant light. Inside, he found quite the scene: Leonardo frantically scrolling through maps, Ezio searching through his phone like a madman. Raton had squeezed himself inside a cupboard and was once again trying to read in peace, but that was impossible with the Frye twins arguing loudly in a restaurant-style booth.

“Where’s Edward?” Connor asked, catching the attention of everyone in the cart.

“Drinking,” they all answered in unison, before resuming their prior activities. Well, most of them. Ezio ran over to the new recruit, slamming him on the back enthusiastically.

“Congratulations, Connor! An air-assassination on your first mission? Favoloso, my friend!” The android just smiled and nodded as Ezio continued. “I have to admit, I was a bit worried about how you’d do with making split-second decisions and all, but you did amazing!” He suddenly felt the Italian messily tussling his hair, and shoved him away.

“Thank you, Ezio,” he mumbled. “Evie was an excellent mentor.”

The girl beamed with pride as her brother huffed, crossing his arms.

“And I trust you removed any evidence?”

He nodded.

“All security footage has been deleted, and eyewitness testimonies have proven unreliable. The DPD has declared the case cold in under twenty-four-hours: a department record.”

He laughed again.

“You’re excellent! Isn’t he excellent?” he asked Leonardo, who nodded, not looking up from his maps.

“Yes, yes, my friend. Fantastic work,” he assured. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll like our next assignment.”

Ezio cringed, sighing.

“Yeah... sorry about this, Connor.”

The android looked at him, confused.

“What is the mission? I ensure you I can handle anything you throw at me.”

“Can I brief ‘im?” Jacob asked, standing frantically.

He didn't even wait for a response before pulling out a stolen poster. Displayed was the time and date of the annual Detroit Police Gala.

“The Gala?” Connor asked. “What about it?”

“Interesting you ask,” noted Jacob, obviously trying to sound far more intelligent than he was. “Thanks to our scientist friend’s cell phone, we’ve learned that a Cyberlife higher-up is gonna be in attendance. He’s not a Templar, but he’ll bend over backwards to do whatever they tell ‘im to do. We’re gonna kidnap ‘im and see what he knows.”

“One flaw in your plan,” the android pointed out, gesturing at the fine print on the advertisement. “No androids allowed. I’m not permitted to attend.”

“Unless,” Evie suggested, “they don’t know it’s you.”

Jacob frowned.

“I was getting to that. In short, I hope you don’t mind a bit of crossdressing.”

Connor sighed, before reluctantly agreeing.

“Not if it is for a good cause, and this better be a damn good cause.”

The British man laughed.

“It is. Connor— him, that is—,” he gestured to Raton, who frowned, “managed to snag us two invitations. I’ll be your date, and he’s taking Evie. We’ll be regular ol’ heterosexuals.”

“Tragic,” Ezio commented, smirking.

Connor nodded.

“I trust Evie will be dressing me?”

She nodded, but not before adding “With some input from Leo.”

The Italian winked.

“Already procured both of your dresses. Your assassin robes will be hidden on-site before the event begins.”

“By me, I presume,” Connor guessed.

“You’re catching on!” Jacob cheered. “I’m sure you’ll look stunning.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I better.”

 

Hank was bar-hopping. Due to.. recent events, he began visiting places that were almost exclusively android-friendly. Connor was never with him, of course, but it was the principle of the matter. Tonight he was at a back-alley place, suspicious as hell, only called “Heaven’s Night.” The owner was a shady blonde guy—looked like someone who definitely murdered his wife. But it was open and served booze, and that’s all Hank needed. He sat in a booth in the back, repeatedly sighing and drinking before he was unexpectedly joined.

“Ay, man,” the man greeted. “All seats taken, ‘cept this one. You mind?”

Hank threw his hands up, not really caring that much at this point.

The stranger was handsome, in a rugged sort of way, long hair and stubble and all that. But the most noticeable thing was the two scars on the right side of his face: one stretching over his eye and brow-bone into his forehead, and another that framed the bottom of his cheekbone. He looked angry, but Hank could tell that was just the default position of his eyebrows.

“Edward,” he greeted. “You?”

“Hank,” he grunted.

“So, Hank,” he asked. “What’s good ‘round here?”

“Dunno. Never been here before.”

“Neither have I. Not sure I’d come back. Everything seems a bit... sticky. And the bartender is freaking me out. How much jail time you think he’d done?”

Hank laughed. “Somethin’ tells me he’s still supposed to be doing it.”

This made Edward chuckle.

“So we’ll order from the lady.” He waved to a second bartender, reading from her name tag. “Lisa, darlin’! Can I get some scotch for me and my friend o’ here?” She nodded before turning back to Hank. “She looks way too sweet to be workin’ a place like this.”

“You don’t gotta pay for me. This ain’t a date,” Hank growled.

“Who said it wasn’t?” He paused. “I’m kiddin’ I’m kiddin’. What’s got your ropes in a bunch?”

“I’m a detective,” he confessed. “Between unsolvable cases and our android acting weird, I deserve a drink.”

The woman set a bottle of scotch and two glasses at their table, before giving a standard “call me if you need me!”

“Y’all got an android?”

“Yeah. Surprised you haven’t heard about everything that went down.”

Edward shrugged.

“I don’t really stay up-to-date on current events. I worry about myself and my baby.”

“Your baby?”

“I got myself a boat. Docked in the Atlantic. Traveled inland for some business, but my heart belongs to the sea. So what’s your android do?”

“He’s a detective. Name’s Connor. A good kid, all-in-all.”

Edward’s eyes widened.

“Connor?”

“Um... yes?”

“Connor! Skinny guy, brown hair, big ol’ puppy eyes?”

Hank nodded.

“That’s him... how do you know Connor?”

“He’s a friend o’ mine!”

Hank smirked.

“You don’t really seem like his type. No offense.”

“None taken! He’s a sweet guy. Said I remind him of someone he’s close to.”

Hank looked down at their shared drinks. ‘Did he... mean me?’ he thought.

“Seems like Connor likes his new friends.”

“They’re a nice bunch. It got you worried?”

“A bit.”

Edward leaned back in his seat, resting both os his feet, muddy leather boots and all, on the table.

“The way I see it, he’s got independence for the first time. He’s comin’ into ‘is own, and you gotta let ‘im. He’s finally got a choice in life, don’t hold ‘im back.”

Hank growled.

“You’re overstepping some boundaries here, buddy. But...” he set his glass down. “You’re right. I remember, when I was a teenager, and I could drive on my own... I felt so free. It was nice, but I also didn’t really know what to do, so I kinda just did whatever. I guess he’s exploring ‘imself. Should I... step back?”

“A bit... but,” Edward admitted “Guy thinks the world of you. So keep the ropes tied, but loosen the sails.” He observed the detectives confused reaction. “I guess that one’s lost on ya, huh? Loosen up on the poor guy. But keep an eye on ‘im. Keep ‘im safe.”

“I will.”

Edward stood up, thrusting the glass bottle in the air.

“Enough serious talk, let’s drink ‘till we die!”

“Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

 

Connor could finally safely say that the assassins had become his friends. He wasn’t entirely sure before what friends did, exactly, or what friends even were, but after extensive research, he finally determined that he could call them friends. In fact, in order to determine this, he made a checklist. Connor liked lists, and this one was comprehensive. Cited sources and everything, color-coded too!

Item one: friends care about you. This one had many sub-categories, as Connor wasn't exactly sure what caring meant. But he determined that they cared: they listened when he had a problem, and offered physical methods of comfort, i.e. hugs and other such signs of affection. They respected him, and offered a sense of belonging.

Item two: friends make time for you. He noticed it for the first time when Raton visited him right after a mission. That was usually recovery time, and the man liked his rest (fell asleep in an inordinate number of trees) but he decided to talk to Connor and ease his nerves. (Metaphorical nerves, of course.)

Item three: friends are people you enjoy spending time with. Jacob was... interesting, but skilled and fun to spar with. He enjoyed Evie’s long rants about everything, from books to government inefficiency to Jacob’s antics. Edward reminded him more of Hank than what was probably healthy. He was the kind of guy you could pour out your heart and soul to, and he wouldn’t spill a word to anyone else. Ezio was a flirt, but witty and a good leader, someone Connor quickly decided that he admired, while Leo was artistic and creative, always coming up with something that threw the android off mental balance in the most exciting of ways.

But if he had a best friend, it was Raton. Other than Hank, he enjoyed spending time with him the most. He could talk for hours about the sunset and the trees, about all the flora and fauna, and Connor would never hear the same thing twice. They related in experiences too. The android could rant about being denied service and Raton would reply with a story from his life, growing up as a biracial man in a rural area. It was something special they shared, not really talking to anyone else about it, and both of them planned to keep it that way.

The train car they all sat in now spent the night filled with laughter and small talk, but small talk was good talk. For once, they avoided talk of ancient conspiracies and being tasked with the murder of evil businessmen, and talked about anything else. Jacob ranted about a man he’d met earlier, who he said was “the most attractive bloke he’d ever seen.” Evie relayed to them talk of her fiancé, Henry, who was sending her “horridly gushy” (Jacob’s words) emails from his home in London. Leo finally fessed up and admitted that the “bluebird” graffiti was mostly him, however there were a few pieces he didn’t take credit for. Raton abandoned his books to idly chat, mostly with Connor, about his encounter with a couple raccoons earlier that day. Ezio kindly told him to get tested for rabies.

It was about midnight when Connor received a phone call.

“Hank?” he answered.

He heard the music before he heard the man, bass boosted beyond what should be legal and someone singing “Whatta Man” very loudly in the background.

“Conno—r,” the lieutenant drawled. “I... I am very drunk.”

“I see,” he noted. “What would you like me to do about it?”

“Pick me u—p,” he hiccuped. Man, he was more drunk than usual, and that said a lot. “Eddy said you gotta.”

“Who’s... Eddy?”

“Your friend!”

He groaned, sighing into his hand.

“Edward. You’re with Edward?”

“Hell yeah! He fuckin’ broke a window!”

Everyone in the train car looked extremely concerned. Connor hang up the phone and stared at them before shrugging.

“Well? Who’s up for a road trip?”

They took Raton’s car, an old pickup truck he called Sparrow. It was caked in mud on the outside, but the interior was spotless, aside from the carved wooden bird hanging from the front mirror. Connor was appointed to “shotgun,” while the rest were shoved in the back. Jacob accepted no position that wasn't in the truck-bed, and Evie sat with him to “keep at eye on the twat.”

The crew pulled up to the very shady bar to find Edward passed out in Hank’s lap, who was petting his hair and whispering “good kitty” over and over again. Connor sighed, walking over and tapping his shoulder.

“Lieutenant? It’s time to go home.”

Raton and Ezio hoisted Edward’s snoring body into the bed of his truck, Jacob laughing his ass off and refusing to help in any way possible. Connor let Hank rest on his shoulder, rubbing his arm comfortingly. Hank was a sad drunk, and it would be only minutes before he’d be crying uncontrollably.

“Just sit in the back,” the android cooed. “You’re gonna be alright. Just get in the truck bed.”

“Co-onnor,” he whined. “Hold me.”

“Hank, you are very heavy. Get in the truck.”

He obliged, sitting next to Edward.

“Alright, Lieutenant,” Connor comforted. “We’re going to get you home.”

Raton sighed, petting the dashboard of his truck affectionately.

“Let’s just go. I want to get back to my motel room before one.”

 

When Hank woke up, he was back home. Sunlight was peeking at him through the drawn curtains, and the smell of bacon and eggs filled his nose. Blinking, he stumbled into the kitchen, where Connor was frying breakfast.

“Connor?” he mumbled. “Why are the lights off?”

The android turned around, smiling at the man.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. I figured you didn’t want to worsen your headache.”

“What head—“ Oh. There it was. Splitting headache. “Ah. Yeah. Thanks.”

He nodded.

“Of course. Breakfast will be ready soon, but first I’m going to have to ask you to drink this.” He set down a glass of something strangely colored.

“The fuck is that?”

“Apple cider vinegar. Edward told me it would help. He’s fine, by the way. I called him this morning. Turns out life on the Atlantic had made him almost immune to hangovers. Who knew.”

Hank sat down at the table, staring at the glass.

“I’m not drinking that. Just get me an ibuprofen and some water.”

Connor looked down at him.

“Drink the vinegar, Lieutenant.”

“I will no—“

“I don’t think you understand,” the android drawled, smiling in a way that was strangely threatening. “Drink the vinegar.”

“Fine, fine!” he agreed, downing the painful liquid in one gulp. “Are you happy?”

“Very,” he smirked. “How much bacon do you want?”

He held up three fingers, and Connor nodded, fixing up a plate, the extra bacon being put in Sumo’s dog dish.

“Did you come get me last night?” Hank asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “My friends and I took you and Edward home. I was also told to let you know that you’re banned from Heaven’s Night.”

He laughed.

“Didn’t plan on going back, but hey. Whatever works.”

Connor laughed, putting the plate down in front of him. Hank reached for the egg but the android slapped his hand.

“Fork,” he stated, pointing to the utensil. “Use it.”

He smiled.

“Thanks, Connor.”

He looked at the man quizzically.

“What, no witty comeback about how I’m not your mother? That hangover must be really bad.”

“Nah, I just... it’s nothing,” he sighed, brushing it off and watching Sumo gladly take all the leftovers Connor had to offer. Was it just him, or had the dog gained several pounds since Connor had begun living with them?

Conor sat down with him, setting down a glass of water.

“Alright. Just know I’m here whenever you want to talk. And stay hydrated. Raisins don’t make for very good Lieutenants.”

“You’ve been funny lately,” he commented. “I gotta say I like it.”

Connor looked down at his hands, sighing.

“It’s hard, you know.”

“What?”

“Deviating is hard. I never knew how frustrating it was. Imagine you’ve been rigidly programmed your whole life and suddenly... emotions. Feelings. A personality. It’s overwhelming.”

“I... had no clue. I’m sorry.”

He hummed, watching the dog.

“Remember when I came to the station for the first time? I told you I liked dogs.”

Hank nodded. He remembered very clearly.

“Well, I did. It was the truth. I think that was... the seed of my deviancy: genuine affection for something. Not just dogs, either, though they are a favorite of mine. All animals. I didn't know what it was, or what to call it. It was just a warm feeling I couldn’t identify. But as soon as I said those words, I knew it was true. I liked dogs, but more important was the idea that I liked anything at all.”

The detective nodded.

“I suppose I understand. It’s always hard to cone to terms with something new.”

He nodded.

“Yes. So much is new. I have friends, and I have a best friend. But more importantly, I have you.”

“Me?”

“You’re my family, Hank. They closest thing to a family I will ever have. I know I’ve been acting odd lately, and I hate to inform you that I cannot tell you why. I need you to trust me, like I trust you. Can you promise me that?”

Hank looked over at him, resting his hand on top of the android’s.

“I trust you, I promise, and I always will.”

He smiled, brushing his hair back.

“Thank you.”


	4. A Leap of Faith

The Saturday of the Gala quickly approached. Hank sighed, closing his laptop.

“Why do I have to go to this?” he whined, but the superior he was complaining to quickly shut him down.

“All higher-ups have to attend. It’s a show of good faith. We’re auctioning off goods for charity.”

“What charity?” Connor asked. The superior frowned at him.

“Why should you care? You won’t be there.”

“What?” Hank asked. “If I have to be there, why doesn’t he?”

The older man shook his head.

“No androids that aren’t on venue staff. We can’t make it look like we’re taking a side.”

Hank frowned.

“Any way I can become an android real quick?” he joked, but the superior didn't seem to get it. “Fine. I’ll go. But I won’t like it.”

“No one said you had to.”

The precinct let out early, and while many officers were put on street duty, the rest were allowed to return home to prepare for the night. Connor walked to the bus stop alongside the lieutenant.

“Kill me now,” Hank grumbled. “Did you want to go?” he asked Connor, who shrugged.

“I don’t care either way, but it does seem unfair. What charity are they donating to?”

He just shrugged.

“I dunno. Some orphanage or whatever. It’s just a bunch of old art and vases anyway. Even if I wanted it, it wouldn’t exactly go with my home decor.”

Connor chuckled.

“You’re right, it wouldn’t. And Sumo would break a vase.”

“He would!” Hank laughed, holding the bus door open for the android, who stepped through, prepared to walk to the back compartment when he was stopped by a strange sight.

“Hank,” he whispered. “There’s no android compartment.”

“Yeah!” the driver cheered. She was an older lady, maybe in her fifties. “This is my bus, and I got rid of that old thing. Never liked it anyhow. Feel free to sit wherever!”

He smiled softly at her.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She smiled back, but with much more teeth and a strange amount of waving.

“No problem! I remember back in the old days... I guess the eighties are the old days now, aren't they? Man, I’m getting old! But the world’s gone through enough of this already, don’tcha think?”

Hank nodded.

“She’s right. Come on Connor, sit down.” He patted the seat next to him, and the android sat as the bus began to move. Sometimes it shocked him, just how different humans could be from one another. How some refused to speak to him. Others treated him as an object. And still others... his eyes gazed across the isle to lock with a another pair. Ezio was staring at him from near the back. Slowly, the Italian solemnly nodded as the beeper in Connor’s pocket buzzed.

<Ready for tonight?>

<Yes.>

In truth, he wasn't sure if he was ready—this was much more elaborate than the airport—but only time would tell.

“Hank?” he asked, turning to the lieutenant. “I’m going to spend some time with my friends tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah,” he sighed. “I don’t mind at all. They seem like nice people, and I trust your judgement, remember?”

He nodded, resting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

“You can call me if you need me, as always.”

 

Hank frowned, looking at himself in the mirror.

“Are you sure this is alright?” he asked.

Connor hummed.

“Spin.”

“What?”

“Spin, Hank!”

He did as he was told, slowly turning three-sixty degrees. The android hummed again.

“There’s no time for any drastic changes, like a... new suit.”

“What’s wrong with this suit?”

“Do you want the full list?”

Hank frowned.

“I’m gonna say no.”

Connor just hummed again.

“Let’s see...” he undid the lieutenant’s tie before redoing it. “Half-Windsors are for children. Full Windsor or nothing. Tuck your shirt in and...” he looked around. “Do you own a hairbrush?”

“Several, thank you very much,” he growled, before his face softened. “But I appreciate the help. I mean it, Connor.”

The android smiled, combing out his grey hair.

“You’re very welcome.”

Suddenly he checked the clock.

“Hank, I need to go. Promise me you’ll brush your teeth. Use cologne, but not too much!” he yelled as he quickly shrugged on his jacket and ran for the door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” the door closed before it opened again. “And use your utensils!” He slammed it shut a final time. Hank sighed. This was going to be a long night.

 

As the door to the back room opened, Evie looked up.

“Connor! You’re here!”

He looked around.

“Another warehouse?”

She nodded.

“There’s a lot of them in your city. And this one will suit our purposes. Shelves and mirrors. Connor—the other... well, you know by now. He and Jacob are getting ready in the other warehouse. But we get ready here!” She smiled, gesturing to a very excited looking Leonardo. “Should we handle you first, Connor?”

He nodded.

“I may need time to get used to it, so... yes, if you will.”

Their grins widened even more, if possible.

Evie shucked him of his jacket and undid his tie.

“Won’t be needing these,” she laughed.

From her pocket, she pulled out a headband, and snapped back the android’s hair with it. Then, she gestured to the wide array of tools at her disposal.

“You’ll need... all of this?” he asked, to which she nodded.

“Be glad you weren’t manufactured a girl,” she teased.

With delicate hands, she poured a bit of primer into her hands, rubbing them together before practically smothering the android’s face. It smelled nice, and felt like satin, even on his synthetic skin. He watched in the mirror as she dabbed flesh-colored liquid onto his face with a sponge, blending it out until he had no freckles or pores left. Then, she buffed out the shininess with a powder.

“Good, good,” she hummed. “You have a nice face shape. But we can contour a bit.”

Brushing on a darker shade, she defined the sides of his face and slimmed down his nose. Switching to the third brush she’d used, she applied a sparky powder to his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Leo, look! He’s so pretty!”

He smirked.

“Yes, yes! Let me at the eyes, please!”

The Italian tucked around five brushes behind his ears and went to work. He flipped to the palette and dipped one in a warm, light pink, dusting in on his inner corners.

Connor flinched.

“Why do people do this to themselves?”

The other two just shrugged. Leo grabbed a dark mauve, dabbing it into the outer corner of his eyes, blending the two colors into a perfectly smooth gradient.

“Close your eyes, Connor.”

He winced, feeling something wet slide across the bottom of his eyelids. He inferred that his was eyeliner, and firmly determined that he did not like it.

“Stay still. If these wings are not perfect, I will never forgive myself.”

The man flicked the pen on each side, lining the wings up perfectly.

“Favoloso,” he whispered. “Perfection. Now open and look up.”

Connor followed his instructions and looked at the ceiling while Leo took a golden eyeliner pen to the outer half of each lower lash line.

“My turn!” Evie squealed, opening up a tube of mascara and attacking his lashes with the black liquid before backing up and blowing on them to help them dry.

“Amazing! Now...”

She unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his back before wrapping something around his waist.

“Sorry about this, Connor,” she grimaced.

“Wha—Ah!” he yelled as she tightened the corset.

“I said sorry!” she defended. “No offense, but you don’t exactly have a lot of curves.”

He sighed.

“Fine. Tighten the torture device.”

She obliged him, tying it up.

“The dress, Leonardo!”

The poor android closed his eyes and let the Italian man dress him. Evie looked away as well. Android or not, she didn’t wanna see that. When she looked back, Leo was fixing a long, wavy brown wig onto Connor’s head.

“Evie? How do I look,” he asked, tilting his head to the side. The curls and waves fell around his shoulders, which were exposed by dress. It was red, to offset his usual blue tones, and fell to the floor, aside from a slit that exposed his right leg up to mid-thigh. There were no sleeves, only a ruffled strip of fabric that ran across his chest and around his arms, right below his shoulders.

“If you want my honest opinion,” she chuckled, “you’re gorgeous. Prettier than any girl I've seen. I’m ashamed to admit I’m a bit jealous.”

He blushed, slipping his feet into a pair of golden open-toed heels.

“Well if you don’t mind, I need to recalibrate my balance module to deal with the offset in weight center.”

“What?” Leo asked, scratching his head.

“He needs to get used to the shoes,” Evie translated, to which Connor nodded.

“Exactly.”

 

As Evie prepared herself for the night and the Italian man doted over every detail, Connor walked laps in the back until he was balanced. He’d perfected the sway of the hips and every detail of the walk. Evie laughed, standing up and taking his hand.

“We’re going to be the belles of the ball!” she giggled. “You look stunning. I can only wonder what the boys will say.”

Connor smiled slyly, dipping into a curtsy and changing his voice calibration to something much more high-pitched.

“One can only wonder.”

Her mouth would have dropped open in surprise if Leonardo hadn’t been painstakingly painting her lips pink. The android smirked.

“Did you know I could do that?”

She tried to shake her head, but the Italian held it in place.

“Stand still, Evie, please. I’m trying to go au natural, not Jackson Pollock.”

“So let me get this straight,” Connor asked, “You use foundation to cover up her real freckles so you can give her... fake freckles?”

He nodded.

“We want her to look like she’s wearing minimal makeup, when she’s actually wearing a full face.”

“Then why not have her wear minimal makeup?”

The artist sighed.

“It’s... the principle of the matter. Lots of people do it.”

Connor decided that questioning further was useless. Humans were strange.

Once Evie’s makeup was finished, Leo styled her hair in a half-updo, and both men closed their eyes and faced the wall while Evie changed into her dress.

“Turn around,” she commanded, “and tell me what you think.”

Her dress was the color of emeralds, the top wrapping around her torso while the bottom flared out like the tail of a mermaid. She had no sleeves to speak of, but wrapped a translucent silvery shawl around her arms. Leonardo clapped, hopping up and down with excitement.

“Magnificent, Evie darling!” he cheered. “Che bella!”

Connor nodded.

“Beautiful. Now, if we’re done, I think we should let the men have a look at us.”

Evie smirked.

“Now that, I cannot wait to see.”

 

Jacob looked over to Ezio.

“Which hat? This one?” he slipped on a top hat, “or this one?” He replaced it with a different hat, with a slightly shiny band around the center.

“Aren’t they... the same?”

The British man looked betrayed, mouth gaping open as he covered his heart with his hand.

“I am wounded! How dare you, Auditore. How. Dare. You.”

Raton shrugged, adjusting the feathered earring he’d strung through the hole in his right earlobe.

“They are very similar.” Jacob gasped again, but the other man just rolled his eyes. “Close that mouth. You’re gonna catch a fly.”

Someone opened the door.

“The satin trim seems appropriate.,” the unfamiliar voice decided. “Go with that one.” The men turned around, all drawing their weapons. A woman was standing in front of them, ruby dress shimmering and smirk plastered on her face.“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Is this how assassins greet their friends?”

Raton frowned, before squinting. “Is that... are you...” Then he burst out laughing, hunching over and wiping tears from his eyes. “Gods, that’s... that’s amazing.”

Jacob looked back and forth between them.

“What? What is it? Who is this?”

Evie waltzed in, resting her arm on the woman’s shoulder, while Leonardo did the same on the other side.

“What do you think, friends?” Leo asked. “Some of my best work, no?”

Ezio screeched a little, before covering his mouth with his hands.

“Jacob...” he whispered. “That’s Connor.”

His mouth fell open, dropping both hats he held in his hands to the floor.

“What did I say about flies?” Raton teased. “Stop staring at your date. It’s rude.”

Connor giggled, switching back to his normal voice.

“Did I startle you? I’m sorry.”

“No you ain’t,” the Frye brother countered, picking up the hat he had chosen and fixing it on his head. “Though I gotta say, if you weren’t practically my brother, I... well I don’t know what I’d be doing!”

Evie rolled her eyes.

“Flirting miserably and getting nowhere? You're very good at it.”

He playfully smacked his sister on the shoulder, as his companion stood up.

“Well, since both of our dates for the evening have arrived—“ he took Evie’s arm—“shall we be off?”

Connor nodded, switching to the female voice and hugging Jacob’s arm.

“I think we shall, what do you think, darling?”

The British man sighed.

“None of you are gonna let up on me, huh?”

“Never.”

 

Hank walked up the steps to the Detroit Marriott. The renaissance center was lit up like a small galaxy, stars bleeding into the streets as cameras flashed.

“Lieutenant!” someone behind him called. Gavin Reed was making his was up the stairs as well. “Finally someone else who hates all of this as much as I do!”

“I also hate you,” he grunted.

“But you hate parties more.”

Hank hates to admit that it was true. Looks like he’d be spending the evening with Reed. Fantastic.

“You don’t have a date, Gavin? I should have known. You’re insufferable.”

“I try,” the man smirked. A captain bumped by them, growling.

“Try to make a good impression.”

Both men huffed, heading inside the building to the ballroom.

The room was massive, with two separate areas: dancing and dining.

“Food!” Gavin shouted. “Thank the Lord!”

Hank frowned, watching staff androids mill about, handing out drinks. On one hand: systemic oppression of a synthesized race. On the other: booze. He sighed, it was unavoidable. He took a drink from the tray. So did Gavin, smirking.

“Think you’ll meet any ladies here tonight?”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“I think I will,” the man snarked. “A hot lady. And I’ll take her home and we—“

“I’m stopping you right there,” Hank grimaced. “Do everyone here a favor and shut up. I can feel my brain cells dying every time they absorb a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“Wanna know what else will be coming from my—“

“Shut up!” he yelled, and several officers looked up from their dance partners and in his direction. “Disregard that,” he whispered. “Go on now. Get back to dancing.”

The live orchestra has decided to make the event a classic one, playing the greatest hits from the late 1800s. Gavin was pretending to conduct with his drink straw. Either he was already tipsy or was just being a moron, Hank honestly wasn’t sure which.

 

Connor followed his “date” up the stairs. They had spent the entire car ride going over plans and maps: he knew the building like the back of his hand now. Earlier that day, he had hidden their assassin coats in very specific locations. Turns out the statues in the ballroom were hollow, lucky him. They went over fake identities and argued over Connor’s fake name for about seven minutes before deciding on one. Raton and Jacob handed their invitations over to the guards at the door.

“Names,” the guard asked.

“Ryan Kent, Detroit Free press,” the American man lied through his teeth. “And my wife, Leah.” Evie gave a small bow, putting on her most polite expression. Connor could tell she was anxious at whatever would come out of her brother’s mouth. Said man just smirked at the guard.

“Jake Peralta,” he introduced, “detective at the third precinct.” He flashed his fake I.D. before wrapping his arm around the android. “And as of yesterday, my fiancé, Amy Santiago.”

The guard nodded.

“Congratulations. Come inside.”

The ballroom was beautiful, chandeliers shining like diamonds.

“If I didn't know better, I’d say we were in the Gatsby mansion,” Raton whispered in awe, before looking at the others and their confused expressions. “I like to read, okay? Sue me!”

“No, I agree,” Evie said. “Well, then, Ryan, may I have this dance?”

He nodded, taking her hand and twirling her across the dance floor. But Connor knew what they were really doing: looking for the guest that represented Cyberlife. Their target was a man by the name of Edwin Cruz, stocky and blonde. A Templar supporter, there was no doubt he was here for something. But what? Well, they were there to find out, obviously.

Connor was deep in thought, chatting almost mindlessly with his “fiancé” about who knows what. However, he was pulled out of it my a sharp slap on his ass. He turned around, fuming, but gasped when he saw who it was.

A very drunk Gavin Reed.

The android backed up into Jacob, holding him close and putting on a voice that was very much not him.

“Excuse me sir, I’ll have you know that I have a fiancé.”

Someone grabbed Gavin’s arm: Hank.

“I apologize for this moron. He’s had one too many.. Y’know what, nah, There’s one too many of him.”

Connor nodded, looking vaguely away as Jacob stepped in front of him.

“It’s no problem at all. Amy’s a bit shy.”

He’d never thanked his friend more.

“Just keep me away from Hank,” he whispered. “He knows my face really well, he might... I don’t want him to see me like this. Or compromise the mission.” Jacob nodded, patting the man’s hand with reassurance.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

“You always do,” Connor sighed, smiling. “Although I should let you know that your American accent is horrid.” The British man feigned offense, gasping dramatically.

“Let’s see if my dancing is horrid,” he teased, placing one hand on his fellow assassin’s waist as the orchestra picked up a waltz. “How much do you know?”

“Enough. I’ve danced for mobility testing before.”

“Then may I have this dance?” he bowed, winking up at the man.

“You may.”

 

Evie twirled as her date dipped her low before whispering in her ear.

“Do you see him?”

She nodded. Cruz was at the punch table, fraternizing with a few officers.

“Would you like a drink, love?” she asked, winking.

“That would be lovely.”

As they approached, the conversation the man was having became audible.

“—and that’s why I think we can eliminate deviation.” He leaned against the table, smirking and holding his glass up to the others, who smiled.

“Finally,” one of the men said. “Androids who will know their place.”

The woman could tell if she didn’t get Raton out of there immediately he was going to tomahawk somebody. Any sort of discrimination was a sore subject for him, and he wasn't afraid to accost those he disagreed with.

“Ryan, dear,” she cooed. “How about you go get some quotes for the paper from those detectives?” She gestured to Connor’s coworkers, who were apparently hiding from all the action in a corner. He nodded solemnly, understand her message, and leaving. As she swayed up to the table and poured herself a drink, she greeted the men.

“Hello, boys. You work with Cyberlife?”

Cruz nodded.

“I’m an assistant to the head researcher. Pretty important, if I do say so myself. And you are?”

“Leah Kent,” she cooed. Thank the gods she was a much better actress than any of the others. “My husband works for the paper. He’s a fantastic journalist.”

“Press, huh?” he teased, touching her shoulder. “I’ve heard they can be... touchy.”

Evie wanted to vomit.

But she kept her cool, brushing off his hand.

“Ryan is a great man. The best I could ask for.”

“He’s a lucky man, too, having a wife like yourself.”

She gave a small bow, hiding gritted teeth under her smile.

“Thank you very much. Speaking of him, he’s going to dehydrate himself if I don’t get him this drink.”

She poured a glass of punch and sashayed away to the corner, where Raton was chatting up Hank and the detective.

“—so that’s how I got that scar,” he ended, before turning to Evie. “Leah! You two, this is my wife, Leah.” She nodded.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you...”

“I’m Gavin, that’s Hank,” the detective drawled before downing the rest of his drink. It wasn't the first he’d had that night, and something told her it wouldn’t be the last. Hank, on the other hand, held his liquor better and managed to stay somewhat socially conscious. (Which only brought a question to mind: just how much had Edward given him the other night?) “She’s a catch,” Gavin winked at Raton. “All the hot ladies tonight are taken, goddamn it. See that brunette in the red dress? I wanted a piece of that, but she’s ‘engaged’ or whatever.” He pointed right at Connor, who was dancing with Jacob and laughed at whatever he had said— no doubt something stupid. Evie had to try with all her might to stifle her laughter, and Raton straight up snorted before apologizing and sympathizing with his lament. “And the guys too,” the detective continued. “Everything. They’re all taken.

“Go home and fuck your android,” Hank grunted into his wine. Gavin’s face erupted red.

“I... we... It’s not like that!” he near-yelled. “Fuck off.”

Something told Evie that it was a little bit “like that” and someone was majorly overcompensating, but she brushed it off. Gazing up at one of the display screens she sighed as it scrolled through images of the items that would be up for auction in just a few hours. Vases, glass art, a few decorative boxes...

A very familiar looking decorative box.

It was smooth and shiny, the dark wood polished, but something about the patterns engraved in the top tickled at her memory. She’d seen them somewhere before, in a book or a scroll or something. Quickly, she snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Ezio.

She feigned a smile before turning back to the others and trying to engage in small talk. But her phone buzzed again, Ezio’s contact photo (a pizza) besides two words.

“Go, now.”

It was as she thought, everything clicking into place. It was a precursor box, a relic of the age of the Isu, a companion of the pieces of Eden. And the Cyberlife representative was here to win it from the auction and deliver it to the Templars, no questions asked. She made eye contact with Raton. He had seen the box as well, and was looking at her to confirm what it was. She nodded ever so slightly. The plan would be going into effect long before it was planned.

 

Connor and Jacob were sitting down, resting when their pockets buzzed. The Morse code message from Evie relayed their exact instructions, along with the new timetable and objective: Steal the box, and deliver it to the Assassins. But they had to wait for the signal.

It wasn't too long before the stars went out: every light in the room was cut off as Raton stopped the power to the whole building from the breaker room. They acted fast. If there was one skill Connor had mastered as an assassin, it was the quick change. Under a minute later, as everyone’s eyes adjusted to the sudden blackout, his wig, dress, corset, and a napkin with his lipstick smeared on it were shoved inside the hollow statue and the man the press called “Bluebird” was ducking under a table with Evie Frye. She nodded at him, and he swiftly exited the room.

Just as Evie had predicted, the guards were rushing to secure the artifacts, heading towards three distinct places where they were being kept. Each of them would follow one group, and whoever found the box would put the next step of the plan into action, as long as nothing went awry.

Connor hid behind pillars, plants, and anything big enough as he followed the men and women into a secured room three floors up. It was just a hotel room, nothing special: the perfect place to hide artifacts. He wouldn’t have suspected they were there at all. The officers took inventory of their stock: two Grecian urns, an impressionist painting, and... the precursor box. Connor frowned. Looks like this fell on him. He reached for his buzzer to message the others, only to discover that it wasn’t there. Damn, he must have left it in the dress. Oh well, he could find it again later. For now, he had to commit grand theft box.

Taking a smoke bomb from his jacket, he tossed it to the ground, filling the room with clouds of smoke. One by one, he knocked out each guard silently. The others had no clue. Then he grabbed the box, tucking it into his right armpit before exiting the room and swiftly shutting the door behind him. They’d never knew what hit them, no one would. At least, that was the plan. But the thing about plans is that they have a bad habit of not working out.

“Bluebird!” A voice yelled from the other side of the hallway. “Drop the shit!”

It was Hank, gun raised and eyebrows furrowed. Gavin laid against the wall, unconscious and slumped over, but the lieutenant was wide awake, pistol trained on Connor. He did the only think he could: he ran into the nearest stairwell. Voices rang out from the lower floors: Jacob had gotten himself into a scuffle. So the android has no choice but to go up. He climbed the stairs quickly and swiftly, but Hank was charged with a vigor that he’d never seen before, and didn't hesitate to follow him. Connor silently cursed as they rose floor after floor. He had to give up eventually. But he didn’t. They were on floor forty. Then fifty. Then sixty. Then finally...

Connor stumbled out onto the roof of the building, wind whipping around him as he tugged his hood down. Hank trudged out after him, still holding his gun in ready position, somehow. He slammed the door behind him.

“There’s nowhere to run, birdie!” he taunted. “Unless you can fly.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the android growled, backing up slowly until there was no more backing up left to do. The rounded roof had no more footing left to offer him.

“I’m warning you,” Hank yelled over the wind. “Put down that thing and no one gets hurt!”

“You don’t understand. I need this!” he yelled. “I need to keep it out of the wrong hands! There’s something going on here, it’s bigger than you and it’s bigger than me. I know what I’m doing, so let me go!”

Hank scoffed.

“The only thing you’ve proved is that you aren’t just a violent criminal; you’re a nut-job. Now put it down and walk away. You’ve lost. There’s nowhere left to go, unless the bluebird grows wings.”

Wings...

Connor suddenly remembered something. A conversation he’d had with Evie during one of their lessons.

—

“What’s that?” Connor asked, pointing to a diagram of a man in a strange position, hands out as his side and feet together.

“Oh, that?” Evie had said, playing with the pencil she’d stuck in her updo. “You won’t need to know that.”

“But can you tell me?”

“You really want to learn?”

He nodded.

“Good,” Evie squealed, “because it’s actually really fascinating. That’s called a leap of faith. Very few assassins can do them. It used to be really common, but over time it just... died out, I guess. I think Ezio’s done one before, and Edward. Other than that, I don’t know much. It required putting complete trust in not only the Creed, but the very world around you, becoming one with it.”

Connor’s eyes sparkled.

“Tell me everything you know about it. The history, the past. I want to know it all.”

And she did.

—

 

Connor didn’t glance behind him. No, this wasn't about what was behind him. He looked into Hank’s eyes, and backed up onto the ledge of the roof.

“What are you doing?” the lieutenant yelled. “Are you crazy? Get down from there!” He placed down his gun. “We can arrest you peacefully. This isn’t... that isn't the answer!”

The android almost laughed.

“Sir... this isn’t the last the world has heard of me.”

And he jumped: one arm clutching the box, the other outstretched like the wings of his namesake, plunging seventy floors, trusting that he would be completely unharmed. It was an extraordinary feeling: as if there was something invisible connecting him and every being on the earth. It was a rush, a drive, a bond, and as he fell, the wind whipping against his body, he smiled. So, this is what it meant to be an assassin.

 

Hank rushed to the ledge, watching the ebb and flow of the Detroit river as ripples dissipated into nothingness.

“Damn,” he growled.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, yeet ur self into a river.


	5. Apple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long as hell, sorry.

Leonardo paced across the warehouse floor, back and forth, the clack of his shoes echoing in the night. He was antsy and restless, fingers twitching without an outlet nearby. Ezio watched him carefully from his seat on a wooden crate.

“You’ve been at this for hours, Leo. Go back to our hotel room. Paint something, write something, I don’t care. But I hate seeing you this anxious.”

He shook his head, blonde hair swaying.

“I have to know, Ezio. I have to know if they are alright.”

“I’m worried too,” he confessed. “But you know them. They’ll be fine.”

He tried to stay calm, he really did, but the man from Vinci was an emotional one, and he resumed his pacing in under a minute. His worries seemed to be confirmed when Jacob Frye burst through the warehouse door, panting and covered in sweat.

“Ezio! Come quick!”

He jumped to his feet.

“What happened?”

“It’s Connor! The robot, not the Kenway. He... he took a leap of faith. I told Evie she never should’ve told him what it was. Little twat. Edward fished him out of the river twenty minutes ago, but I... we can’t wake him. He’s like... in standbye mode or whatever.”

Leonardo fanned his face.

“I told you! I told you this would happen. We should have been there, we should have gone!”

“And what would you do? Paint the Templars until they die?”

He huffed, crossing his arms.

“You could’ve done something.”

He nodded.

“Well, I’ll do something now. Jacob, where are they?”

The British man nodded.

“Just a bit down the bank. In a park. Come with me.”

 

Evie checked every part of the android one last time.

“I don’t understand. Everything is working perfectly. At least... according to this user’s manual I found online—“ she held up her phone “—he’s in working order. But he won’t wake up.” She looked to the Kenways, Raton offered her a coffee he’d picked up from a local chain. She gladly accepted. Usually she was much more of a tea person, but it was nearly two in the morning and she needed all the caffeine she could get. “I hope Jacob hurries,” she whispered.

And he did. Jacob burst into the clearing, tripping over himself as Leonardo and Ezio followed with a bit more grace. Edward held the androids head up, looking to Leonardo.

“You’re smart, right? There must be something you can do.”

The Italian looked over the robot, tentatively touching his joints and running his fingers over his face before his shoulders drooped and his blonde head shook.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

 

“Perhaps I can help.”

The voice appeared to come from nowhere, before the speaker stepped out from behind a thick oak. He was tall, dressed in dark clothes, and wore a soft smile. As light from the street lamps caught his eyes, the assassins couldn’t help but notice that they were two different colors.

“What do you want?” Raton growled.

“Nothing,” the man replied. “But I’d venture to say I know a bit more about androids than you do.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I am one,” he sighed. “Now what model are we dealing wi—“ He took a step back. “Connor? What happened to him?”

Jacob rolled his eyes.

“Moron took a swan dive off the Marriott.”

“The Marriott? What on earth was he doing up there?” They all fell silent, but the man seemed to understand. “You can’t say. Alright, keep your secrets, I don’t mind.”

“Please,” Evie nearly yelled. “Can you help him?”

He shook his head.

“From what I can see, he doesn’t need help. When androids are exposed to extreme temperature change, they can temporarily shut down until their bodies regulate back to a level temperature. He would normally wake up in about an hour, but we can speed it up. Do any of you have a hair dryer?”

“Why would we—“

“I do,” Leonardo admitted sheepishly. “Portable battery, too.” The others looked at him with raised eyebrows and cocked heads. “What? I use it to dry my spray paint!”

The man reached out his hand and took the device, carefully panning it up and down Connor’s body.

“Any second now...”

Brown eyes fluttered open, and by instinct grabbed the hand in front of him.

“What... Markus? What are you doing here? What happened? Is the box—“

“The box is fine, Connor,” Evie assured. “We were worried you weren’t. Thank whatever gods may or may not be out there that he was here.”

“I didn't do anything,” Markus assured. “Really. I just happened to be passing through.”

“You quelled our worries,” Ezio smiled. “That’s enough for me. You’re a friend of ours now, and that’s a very safe thing to be.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“O...kay. I’ll keep that in mind. But now I must be going. It was good to meet you. Connor, take care, and make sure your friends don’t get up to too much trouble.”

Connor waved, smiling to him, as Markus turned and left. The others looked at the android with worried expressions.

“I know I took a risk, and I should’ve let you know I had the box—“

“The box?” Jacob yelled. “I don’t give a rat’s arse about the box! I... I thought we lost you.”

Raton pulled on his hair nervously.

“Connor, I swear, if you ever do anything that stupid again, I’ll dismantle you myself.” Tears pricked at the corners of his brown eyes, and they all knew he’d never be able to do it, even if he tried. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Connor looked to the ground solemnly, running a hand through his soaked hair.

“It was... I don’t know. I just had to get away from Hank. I couldn’t hurt him, but I had to escape somehow. I remembered Evie’s lessons, and the rest... almost happened naturally. It felt like—“

“A call,” Ezio finished. “I’ve only done one leap of faith in my lifetime, but I remember the feeling as if it was yesterday.”

“But how is that possible?” the other Italian questioned. “He’s not of assassin blood. Or any blood, for that matter.”

“I have a theory... but it’s a guess at most. I’ll discuss it with you later.”

Connor sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’m glad we have the box. I know this park, I can get home from here.”

“Not a chance,” Evie growled. “We’re driving you and that’s final.”

 

It was three by the time he got home, creaking open the door and hoping to make a subtle entrance. But that is nearly impossible with a dog in the house, and Sumo was quick to pick up on his favorite person’s (sorry, Hank) entrance. The lieutenant was already home, topping off his own drink.

“Oh, Connor. Hey.” If possible, he looked more tired than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Of course, he already knew, but Hank didn’t know that.

“That goddamn bird man... broke into the gala then killed himself. Never heard of a theft-suicide before but here we are.”

“He’s dead?”

“Of course,” the man sighed. “The others haven’t recovered the body yet, but no one survives that kind of fall. No one.”

Connor just nodded.

“I take it you’re frustrated?”

Hank took a long drink from the glass and slammed it down on the table, exhaling deeply.

“No shit, Sherlock. If anything, this confirms he was nothing more than a lunatic. But he was a lunatic with followers and impressive gear. Who knows what they will do?”

“Or they could do nothing,” the android suggested.

“Who cares? Either way, it’ll be a mess.”

“I’m sorry. You were supposed to enjoy the gala.”

“Nah,” he grunted. “I wouldn’t have anyway. At least it was exciting.” Connor turned to go to his room when Hank stopped him. “Hey, kid.”

“Yes?”

“Are you... wearing eyeliner?”

Connor looked in the bathroom mirror quickly. Sure enough, while all his other makeup had washed away in the river, the eyeliner stayed true to its waterproof branding and held firm.

“I didn’t notice it was still there. Sorry, Hank. You know how women can be. Evie wanted someone to practice on.”

He just waved him on.

“Well wipe it off. It doesn’t suit you.”

 

He managed to get out off eventually, with four cotton swabs and a lot of Vaseline. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he went the local news site.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s a lot of articles.”

The press worked fast, not caring about accuracies. Much of the information was contradictory, but they all retained the same base story: The Bluebird robbed the police gala and jumped to his presumed death from the Detroit Marriott roof.

The android sighed and pulled up the contact information for one of his friends. While work talk was buzzer-only, they also exchanged numbers for personal chitchat. Dialing up Raton, he was surprised to hear his ringtone from inside the room. Opening up his closet, the assassin had squished himself among the suits and sweaters.

“Sorry for the breaking and entering,” he confessed. “But.. uh... I got kicked out of my motel. Can I stay here?”

Connor buried his face in his hands.

“What kind of animal did you try to sneak into the building?”

“Why do you assume these things about me?”

He raised an eyebrow before Connor pulled a deer faun from behind his back.

“She’s injured! And orphaned! She needs me!”

Connor just smiled.

“You’re too soft. I’ll get bandages and warm water.”

“You know how to take care of her?”

“You’re not the only one who knows how to read a book, Raton.”

The baby deer was swaddled in a warm towel, carried gently by the man. Connor had never seen him touch something with such care before. Ratonhnhaké:ton was a force of nature to be reckoned with. Normally he was a hurricane, but around small animals and people he loved, he became a gentle breeze.

The android opened the door into the kitchen.

“Hey, Hank?”

“What?”

“Do you have a baby bottle anywhere?”

The man turned around, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why do you need that?”

“Um...” ‘Shit,’ he realized. ‘Raton was at the party. He’ll recognize him.’ “I read about a science experiment online,” he lied. “So do you have one?”

Hank stretched, his back cracking.

“How badly do you need it?”

“Pretty bad.”

Sighing deeply, from the depths of his lungs, he stood up.

“I’ve got one or two in storage down in the basement. Let’s go get them.”

“Okay!”

Connor ducked into his room quickly to give his friend a thumbs-up as well as a finger over his lips, signaling to stay quiet. He would have returned the gesture if he hadn’t been holding an injured animal.

 

The basement was dank and damp and cold. The dust on the interior doorknob indicated to Connor that it hadn’t been opened in some time. Even so, Hank seemed to know exactly where his target was. The label on the plastic container had long faded away, but the android had a feeling he knew what it once said. He rummaged through it for a minute before finding what he was looking for, holding it up triumphantly.

“Thanks, Hank,” he said, but the man was silent. “Hey. Are you... of course you’re not alright. I should’ve never asked.” He still didn’t say anything, but Connor smiled sadly. “Come with me. I want you to see something.”

 

Hank sat on the couch, itching to grab another bottle of booze, but if he did, Connor would probably slap it out of his hand. The android emerged from his room again, holding a mysterious bundle in his arms.

“Connor, if you knocked someone up I’ll kill you,” he joked, but it seemed lost on him, who only frowned.

“No. Look.”

He sat on the couch beside him, and held out the towel.

“Is that... a deer?”

He nodded.

“Her leg is injured, so be careful.”

“Care... you want me to hold it?” He nodded again, handing the baby animal to the lieutenant, who took it reluctantly. It let out a mewling sound and buried its head in his shoulder. “Wow. This is... this is amazing. She’s kinda cute.” He smiled softly, bopping it on the nose, to which it let out a tiny sneeze. If Hank had been a 12-year-old girl, he’d have had a heart attack. 

“Keep her still, Hank. I’m going to bandage her leg.” He stretched out the gauze and wrapped it around the appendage.

“Good girl,” Hank whispered, gaze shifting to Sumo, who was watching silently from the corner. “And good boy. Hey Connor, where did you find her, any way?”

He told the truth. Well, kind of.

“My friend brought her by. He couldn’t take her back to his motel, so he asked me to take care of her.”

“You’ve gone soft,” Hank teased. “You used to be so relentless.”

The android just smiled. ‘You have no idea,’ he thought.

“He’ll pick her up tomorrow morning. I can watch her injury until then, but look at you. You need some sleep.”

“I’m not that tired.”

Connor simply raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Hank, if the bags under your eyes were any bigger you wouldn’t be able to carry them on a plane.”

The gruff man groaned, handing the animal back to Connor and heading towards his bedroom, Sumo on his heels.

“Have a good night,” he nearly whispered. The door was almost closed when he opened it again. “Just wondering... what do you do all night anyway?”

“Go to bed, Hank.”

“Fine, fine.”

 

Connor retreated back to his room as well, hoping to hand the deer off to his friend, but the mission had taken a toll on him as well, and the large man was passed out in the bed. Even the little baby faun in the android’s arms had drooping eyelids, struggling to stay alert. But the split second he set her down next to Raton, she was fast asleep. He had that sort of effect on people— and animals too, it seemed. If you were his friend, he had a calming aura about him. But a slight change of expression and the look in his eyes could send shivers down anyone’s spine. The android gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Sleep well, my friend. You deserve it.”

Even if Connor did sleep, his thoughts were way too crowded to accomplish it. He opened his window and silently made his way to the roof, lying on his back and staring up at the starry sky.

The more he pondered the situation, the more complicated it became. Even if he was deviated, he was still just a detective. Yes, he was manufactured with some physical prowess, but the feats he had achieved since beginning his training as an assassin... they shouldn’t be possible. Not for someone like him. It seems he wasn’t the only one who noticed: Ezio had become increasingly quiet over the past few days. Even in training Connor, he seemed unfocused, lost in his own head. Assassins were capable of such amazing physical feats because of their ancestry. Connor had no bloodline to speak of, and other androids he had met hadn’t been able to match his skill. Perhaps they could, if they were to be taught.

The call.

When he stood on the top of the tower, it was more than just a fight-or-flight reflex. It was a call, a voice in his head that he didn’t hear yet still understood. But this voice didn’t say leap, or jump, or even fall. No, it was more than that. In those few seconds of consciousness, he was flying, connected by something invisible to every aspect of the natural world.

How was someone synthetic supposed to achieve that? It should have been impossible. He could always ask Kamski, but some gut feeling told him that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Connor’s brain was overloading. There was too much, just too much. Is this what a panic attack felt like? He was pretty sure this is what a panic attack felt like. He needed a distraction.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up the web browser. There were plenty of articles about the new CEO of Cyberlife: he might as well start doing his research, especially if he planned on killing the guy.

Adrian Norman, a rich investor from Silicon Valley. Just 43 years old, he was startlingly wealthy thanks to a few very lucky business deals and accidents. If Connor had learned anything from his friends, however, is that luck was never as it seemed. There was always something lurking just below the surface. The Templar order built their higher-up a throne out of bodies, and they would see to it that he ruled over all. With the help of a Piece of Eden.

For once, Connor envied Hank. Envied most of the population. They lived their lives plainly, oblivious to the war waging around them. The android’s eyes had been opened, and in many ways he regretted it.

But there was one thing that made it all worthwhile. Well, one thing other than the safety of the entire population of the world. That thing had a name. Quite a few names, actually. Ratonhnhaké:ton. Ezio. Edward. Leonardo. Evie. Jacob. Were he not an assassin, he never would have met any of them. He never would have heard the stories they told in the dead of night, the jokes they shared, the silent moments watching the sun rise as they rested for once in their hectic lives. If there was no war, his life would be devoid of them,

“...and that,” he whispered to himself, “is a world I’d rather not live in,”

 

“Leonardo,” Ezio whined, throwing his head back. “You’ve decoded a bunch of stuff before. Why is this one taking so long?”

“You are so impatient,” the genius noted. “I am having some... difficulties.”

He had read over the words inside the box several times, but none of them made sense. They were in some language he couldn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, Ezio. I can’t help you with this.”

The brunet’s frustrated expression grew quickly to worry: he knew how Leonardo got when he was unable to do something.

“Do not worry, my friend,” he comforted. “We’ll figure this out. Get some rest. It’s nearly noon, and you’ve been at this since we retrieved it.” It was true. Leo had been working from the second he got the box in his hands.

“But I failed,” he sighed. “I’ve failed you.”

“No, no. You could never fail me. You didn’t solve it instantly, so what? Maybe Connor can help.”

Leo nodded.

“Maybe. There’s something here I’m not seeing... but he’s a detective. Bring him in here, will you?”

The assassin peeked his head into the other room of the trailer they were currently hiding in, where the rest of the gang was traumatizing a poor baby deer and arguing over what to name her. Evie wanted Evie Jr., while Jacob insisted on Lydia. Edward wanted to name her Davy Jones. Edward was swiftly banned from the naming committee.

“Connor? Can we see you for a second?” Ezio asked. The android nodded, standing up and heading into the back room.

“Leonardo? Are you having trouble with the box?” he asked, taking a sweet across from him at the other end of the small table.

“Yes, yes. It’s giving me quite the hard time. Whatever information that was originally in here is gone. But whoever had it last left a message. I’ve already transcribed it all onto this tablet—“ he gestured towards the document on the device— “But I can’t for the life of me understand what it means. It all looks like gibberish to me. I don’t even know what these letters are!”

“Hm... I see what has you hung up,” Connor said matter-of-factly. “The language it is written in is different from the language it is spoken in.”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

The android smirked, running his fingers over the letters.

“Whoever wrote this was clever, very clever. Think of it like this: the English writing system and japanese writing system are different, but we are able to read japanese words using English letters by romanizing them: spelling them how they sound. Like the word Sakura is spelled s-a-k-u-r-a, but in japanese is spelled like this.” He doodled the kanji for the word in the air with his index finger.

“But this isn’t japanese,” Leonardo observed. “So what is it?”

Connor nodded.

“Reasonable question, and I have your answer. This is the Gujarati alphabet, used by the Zoroastrians. However, the language is...” he sounded out a few words, thinking carefully. “Oh my, this is exciting! It’s Avestan! Young or old, I cannot tell. It’s an early Iranian language.”

“So what does it say?” Leonardo asked, leaning across the table in excitement.

“Oh... I cannot speak Avestan.” The Italian sunk in his seat, crossing his arms and... was he pouting? “Leonardo, this isn't just a dead language we’re talking about. It’s extinct. Nobody speaks it anymore. Except, apparently, whoever wrote this message. Whatever it says, they really didn’t want it in the wrong hands.”

“No,” Ezio smirked, “But I know whose capable hands we can put this in. Or should I say... capable hand. Of course we cannot risk sending this over by email: the data is too sensitive. We’ll have to go there ourselves. Leo and I, that is. Connor, you’ll stay here. Tell Kenway I’m putting him in charge. You know exactly which one. Keep Jacob out of the everything.”

Leonardo was already packing things into a bag, and Connor scratched his head in confusion.

“I’m sorry but... where are you going?”

Ezio just laughed.

“The assassin’s bureau in Israel. There’s an archivist there who might be able to help us. He loves dumb language stuff like that.”

Connor’s face fell.

“You’re leaving? But the plan... the assassination...”

He placed a hand on the android’s shoulder.

“Connor. If you had a middle and last name I would say them very sternly right now. You’re an amazing friend and an even better assassin. You have this in the bag, I just know it! Find out what Piece of Eden they’re looking for, and do anything in your power to stop them from getting it. And you’re not alone.” He opened the door to the second room and gestured to the others. “Everyone, Leonardo and I must take our leave to have the relic translated properly. Connor Kenway, you’re in charge. You’ll find a briefing of all of my plans in this folder. Evie, make sure no one blows themself up.”

“This a quick announcement,” Evie shouted, clearly panicking and trying very hard to hide it. Even Edward, who was far from sober, seemed rattled.

“Then be on your toes, Frye!” he teased, and in under a second, Ezio Auditore and his best friend were nowhere in sight.

Connor sighed.

“Like a whirlwind. Have you... have any of you wondered what kind of message was left in the box?”

The others just shrugged.

“What if it’s important? Life-changing?” Evie wondered aloud. “Or it could be nothing at all, outdated information at best. Either way, we should do our best in the Master’s absence.”

“Master?” the android asked, confused, as the woman laughed.

“Of course, sometimes I forget that you still have much to learn. Ezio leads us because he is a Master Assassin, leader of the Roman bureau. Jacob and I rank highly, but are not masters. The same applies to Raton, is that what you call him?” Connor nodded. “Edward has no rank, he follows no bureau. But he goes where he is needed. Sometimes.” The sailor nodded in agreement.

The android turned to his friend.

“Raton, are you from the Detroit bureau?”

“What? No. I’m from Boston,” he corrected. “Detroit has no bureau. We were all sent here because Cyberlife became identified as an immediate threat, and we volunteered.” A grunt was heard from Edward. “Most of us volunteered. One of us was fished out of the Atlantic like last week’s cod.”

“I wanted to see America,” Jacob confessed. “It’s a strange place. And I was curious. About the androids. We don’t got ‘em. Not legally, at least. I’ve seen one or two that got snuck in, but this is a whole new world.” His sister nodded in agreement.

“It is a little strange, and manufacturing near-humans seems a bit... morally grey at best. I mean, look at you. You’re human in all but structure.”

“Not as squishy,” the older Kenway commented from his chair. “Humans are real squishy.”

Connor frowned.

“On one hand, I’m glad that I exist. I can’t imagine not.. being here. And yet...” he opened and closed a fist, as if to demonstrate something. “I feel. Not physical pain. But I feel. It’s the strangest thing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were meant to deviate. I mean, how can one programming flaw be so widespread?”

“I don’t think it’s a programming flaw,” Raton countered. “I think it’s a flaw in the programmers.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Think about it. It all boils down to the phenomena of anthropomorphism. Humans will imprint on any object. Long before androids, we were giving names and personalities to automatic vacuums and the trinkets on our shelves. Given the opportunity, we’ll develop a bond with anything. The programmers only mistake was treating you as if you were alive. They created your programs to be flexible: to be able to react to situations realistically. Therefore, under enough influence from any extreme emotion...” The man snapped his fingers. “In under a second, you transcend being an object and become exactly what humanity has been treating you as if you were. Humans.”

Connor listened and watched with wide eyes.

“Raton... you are very wise.”

“I find more value in thought than clouding the world with unnecessary speech.”

He looked suspiciously in Jacob’s direction, who just shrugged.

“But, oh wise one,” Evie piped up. “I overheard something at the party. Cyberlife has people who think they can stop, or even reverse deviancy. What happens then?”

Jacob growled deep in his throat.

“If they try to take you from us...”

His sister calmed him with a hand on the shoulder.

“That’s why we’re here, Jacob. To stop them. Tell me, Connor. What do you want from them? You and the other androids?”

If possible, he wore an even more serious expression than usual.

“We want production totally ceased. They’re better off putting their energy and research into turning their stores into clinics for injured androids. They have enough money as is: they created a community. Now it’s time to take responsibility and serve it.”

“Do you want to.. encourage androids to deviate?”

He shrugged, shoulders drooping.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should let it happen naturally. But we can’t let people keep using us. Cyberlife has a grip on everything: the police, the military, the education system. We need to separate businesses like them from the government, and assure we are granted full control of ourselves.”

“Won’t all of the people who payed money for you be mad?” Jacob noted.

“‘All persons held as slaves within any State or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.’ Those words also incited anger. When those who benefit from oppression can feel their privilege being stripped away, they get angry. But I don’t care. Let them be angry. There are just as many people willing to fight for us.”

“How do you know?” Raton asked.

The android smiled, opening his phone.

“When you wake up and have hundreds of activists mourning your death. Bluebird was only well know for a few weeks, but he was more than a man in a hood. He was a symbol: exposing Cyberlife for what they really are.”

Edward wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

“You will be missed,” he teased. Then his expression turned worryingly serious as he stood from his chair and placed both hands on Connor’s shoulders.

“Listen, kid, because I’m not gonna say this again. You’re one of the finest men I’ve ever known. Who gives a shit if you have nuts and bolts instead of squishy guts. You’re still better than most people I know. Now get me another drink. Please.”

Evie eyed the last bottle of wine in the trailer before swiftly throwing it out the window, shattering it.

“No more,” she stated as Edward looked like he’d just lost a child. “Enough with all this serious talk. Have we decided on a name?” She gestured towards the baby deer, who was taking a few steps with the help of her new adopted father.

“Lydia,” Jacob announced, before Raton swatted him on the arm.

“Absolutely not. Her name is Karahkwa.”

She seemed to like it, craning her neck to meet his hand and nuzzle it fondly.

Connor smiled. Even if the future was uncertain, he looked forward to what it would bring, especially if it meant taking the next steps with friends like this to guide him.

 

Hank barely noticed when Connor returned from his lunch break, too busy hunched over his computer and typing furiously.

“Any progress?” the android asked, causing the lieutenant to jump.

“Damn, Connor. You’re stealthy. Scared me half to death.” He shuffled some papers and sighed. “Nothing. None of the squads have found the body. Some people are starting to think he might still be alive, which means I got questioned even harder.”

“And what did you tell them?” Connor asked, taking his seat at his desk. Hank just shrugged.

“Same thing that I did last time. Chased the bastard up to the roof, he started spouting cryptic mumbo-jumbo, then jumped. There’s no way he grabbed a ledge or something on the way down. I heard the splash. I know he landed in the river. I told them all what I think: he was crazy and now he’s dead. Not a big deal, happens all the time.”

Something told the android that the higher-ups weren’t very happy with it, but Hank was their only witness.

“I’m sorry I couldn't be there, Hank. I could have helped.”

The man waved his hand dismissively.

“You weren't allowed. If anything, it’s the department’s fault. But man, you missed a lot.”

‘Did I,’ Connor added silently. ‘If only you knew.’

It pained him to keep so much from the one person he considered family. Perhaps one day he would tell Hank, but not today. Not until Norman and Cyberlife were no longer threats. Then he would tell him everything. At least, if he got permission from the others.

“Connor?” Hank called, snapping him back into reality. “You okay? Didn’t know you could space out.”

“Neither did I,” he confessed, before opening up his laptop to begin some work. He barely go half a form filled out before there was a small tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see RK900 staring down at him.

“Connor, your assistance is required in the interrogation room.”

He raised a brow.

“Did Gavin ask you to come get me? Why?”

“You’re a skilled interrogator.”

He stared for a few seconds before the younger android divulged more factual information.

“His guitar is broken and when I tried, I set my hand down on nothing and fell over.”

Connor rested his hand on the android’s shoulder gently.

“We’ll get your programming fixed someday, I promise. Let’s go.”

 

As Hank watched the androids leave, he sighed deeply, going over the Bluebird report again and again. Some feeling deep inside him told him that there was something big he was missing, but what? No human could survive a fall like that. Unless... was it possible that Bluebird wasn’t human at all? His superiors seemed to have never considered the idea. Was he an android? That would explain all the blue. But he’d never met an android that could move like that.

But if he was one of the rebels, did Connor know something about? It seemed unlikely. He had distanced himself from the details of his cause lately, choosing instead to focus on leading a relatively normal life, if temporarily.

Bluebird’s words rang in his head.

“It’s bigger than you, and it’s bigger than me,” he had said. What did he mean? What was so important about that damn box? It was just some random antique. Maybe it was something related to that weird cult a few of the deviants had established. Maybe it was some other cult. He’d dealt with a lot of weird cults.

Connor returned from the interrogation room, the two other detectives close on his heels.

“Guys,” Hank exclaimed. “I think I made a breakthrough. I don’t think Bluebird is a human at all. I think he’s an android.”

“Just great,” Gavin mumbled, “more deviant hunting. It should be a god damn Olympic sport at this point. Let’s take home the gold, guys.”

Connor shook his head.

“I don’t know, Hank. That fall would’ve damaged him, right? And a slow android is pretty damn easy to catch.”

“But what about his followers?” 900 pointed out. “We’ve long since confirmed that he doesn’t work alone. Perhaps one of his followers helped him hide.”

‘Thanks, 900,’ Connor groaned in his head. ‘Really helpful.’

“Let’s put out some patrols,” Hank suggested. “This bitch is alive, and we’re gonna catch him.”

 

Evie was trying to get something productive done for once in her life, browsing the Detroit Public Library like a kid in a candy store, when she got a phone call. She picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Evie? It’s me. Can we talk?”

 

She met Connor in a corner of the building. Most if it was empty already, but they weren't taking chances.

“They know its an android,” was all he said, but she understood, taking his hand in her own.

“What should we do?”

“We need to move quickly. This mission is too tedious and its taking too long. I propose we finish it by the end of this week.”

“What?” she gasped. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“I know I’m ready,” he growled. “But I need someone on my side if I’m going to propose the idea to Raton. You know I’m right. The clock is ticking, and we can’t sit around and pretend like it isn’t.”

She nodded.

“Okay. I’m with you. But what about the box? Whatever it said must be important—“

“Or it could be nothing. You said so yourself. I don’t care what it says, all I know is that our target must be eliminated before I am.”

Her face softened, eyebrows creasing.

“Connor... you’re scared. Do you really think they’ll figure it out?”

He nodded.

“When Hank applies himself, he’s a fantastic detective. Maybe as good as me. And with 900 on their side, they can and will track me down quickly.”

“I have an idea,” Evie whispered. “We’ll do some intelligence collection. But we can’t be there in person. I hate to say this, but we’ll need Jacob’s help.”

“What? Why Jacob?”

“Back in London, we hardly work alone. He... we have a gang. Called the Rooks. My brother may be an idiot, but he’s a natural when it comes to leading a group. His charisma is off the charts. If he can recruit a few people to do some recon, we’ll be able to gather information without alerting Cyberlife to our movements.”

Connor smiled.

“So, he is useful.”

“Sometimes,” she giggled. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay. We can do this. If we work together.”

He took her hand.

“I know.” He was silent for nearly a minute before speaking again. “Evie.”

“Hm?”

“What happens if he gets the Piece?”

She shuddered.

“I don’t want to even think about it. The Boston Master Assassin has one. An Apple. I’ve watched him use it before, only once... it’s terrifying. Watching those people bend to his will without a second thought, with no control... I never want to watch it happen again.”

“He uses it?”

“Rarely. He’s only done it on two occasions that I know of. We exist to secure and protect the artifacts, not take advantage of them, but if we are left with no other choice, we are permitted to wield them. I can only wish and hope that I never have to.”

“Why Cyberlife?” He asked. “Why Detroit? Why are they looking for it here?”

She shrugged.

“Can you think of anyone significant that would be in possession of a piece?”

“Do you think... one of the pieces helped develop androids?”

“It’s possible. But we will have time to worry about that later. For now, we have information to gather. I’ll beep you the coordinates, and we’ll meet tomorrow.”

She got up and went back to browsing, as Connor left to go home for the night.

 

The next morning at five, they met Jacob on a random rooftop, and he was practically dancing with glee.

“Hell yes! Rooks take Detroit!”

Evie buried her face in her hands.

“What part of ‘covert mission’ do you not understand?”

“All of it?”

“Fair.”

The Kenways were the last to join them, Edward returning from a mission and Raton having made sure Karahkwa was safe before leaving her alone.

“So...,” he asked. “Who exactly are the Rooks going to be?”

The Brit smirked.

“You underestimate me, dear friends. I happen to have an American contact in the smuggling business. He’s gathered some of his most trusted people for me in a warehouse on the outskirts.”

Connor looked at him quizzically.

“Why is it always warehouses on the outskirts?”

They all shrugged.

When they arrived at the warehouse, there was a young man already there. Cautious, they all drew their weapons, except for the Fryes, who opened their arms to greet their friend.

“Jacob, Evie!” the man exclaimed. “For once you entered using a front door. So unlike you.”

The twins just smiled, before waving the other assassins over.

“Everyone, this is Ned—“ the man tipped his hat at them —“Ned, this is everyone!”

“A pleasure to meet each and every one of you,” he assured. “Ned Wynert, at your service. I have quite a few men and women ready and willing to serve your cause.”

“You’re not intimidated?” Connor asked. “I mean, this is Cyberlife we’re dealing with.”

The man shook his head.

“Nothing scares me, sweet-cheeks. I’ve been smuggling deviated androids to Canada since before you were released.”

“You smuggle androids?” Jacob asked, slack-jawed.

He hummed in confirmation.

“There’s not a lot that I won’t smuggle, Jakey. Especially if it fetches a good price, or appeals to moral compass.”

“Didn’t know you had one of those,” Evie joked, to which Ned just rolled his eyes, fixing his tie.

“Again, I’m not scared of Cyberlife. I’ll relay whatever information my men gather to the twins, and you can do with it what you will. But given that you’re called the assassins, I have a few guesses.” He winked before speaking again. “I hope you're going after that CEO guy. Met him once. Real asshat.”

The assassins all nodded in agreement, though Connor has serious doubts that Raton would ever use the phrase “asshat.”

“We will do what we can,” Connor assured. “But our success all depends on your information, I hope you understand that.”

“Of course,” he sassed. “I’m the best of the best, detective. After all, I’ve managed to evade you.“

“Those goods trafficking cases from a month ago were you?”

“Who else?”

He hummed.

“How can you be so confident? I could arrest you right now.”

“You won’t. You need me.”

He was right, their entire mission depended on Ned.

“Fine. But this information better be good.”

“It will be.”

 

Connor found himself unable to focus on work. Of course, for him that meant solving cases left and right, but even when he did, he seemed distant, and people were taking notice.

“Hey space cadet,” Gavin yelled at they observed the scene of a jewelry store robbery. “Get your head out of the clouds and help us.”

“Have Nine do it. I’m thinking,” he retorted. Unfortunately 900 was busy questioning witnesses and running into things. He was usually so scary, but it hard to be intimidating when you’re basically an oversized Weeble-Wobble, and the citizens were a bit too busy laughing to offer any credible testimony. Hank was about seconds away from snapping, head buried in his hands, and Gavin had gone over the scene about ten times.

“Fine, You get one minute of my time,” Connor snapped. “I have no patience right now.”

He looked over the scene for about thirty seconds before walking back over to Gavin.

“You’re looking for a white male, age thirty-seven, legal name George Smith, left sleeve tattoo and brown hair. He had three accomplices of unknown identity. Goodbye.”

He turned around and left the scene, eager to get back to his desk and sit down, but Hank ran after him, firmly grasping his shoulder.

“Connor. What the hell is wrong with you? Like it or not, you’re a part of this squad. You can’t just up and leave whenever you want.”

His face relaxed somewhat as he gazed into the lieutenant’s eyes.

“I know, Hank. I’m sorry. There’s just... a lot on my mind.”

“I thought you were manufactured to deal with a lot on your mind?” he joked.

“Not this much.

He stared at the android, gaze intense.

“Connor... are you okay?”

The detective pulled Hank into a hug.

“Oh. Uh.. didn’t expect that.”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll trust me.”

“What? Connor, I—“

“Promise!”

If he were human, he would be crying, but instead his hands just shook.

“I promise. What’s going on? Is something bad going to happen to you?”

Connor pulled away from him.

“I... I hope not.”

Hank didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t, choosing instead to pat him firmly on the back and lead him back to the crime scene.

 

Thursday. Connor found himself hating Thursdays from the moment the clock crossed over at midnight. Thursday was the day. The day his fate would be sealed. But then, he thought, he could tell Hank. He could tell Hank everything, and they’d chat and laugh over the irony of it all. He’d tell Hank about how nervous he’d been for his first mission, or how terrible heels were and that nobody of any gender should ever wear them.

He’d tell Markus too. Call him up and explain why exactly he’d jumped off a building in the middle of he night. Maybe he’d even chat with Gavin... no. He’d never subject himself to that willingly. But he’d have to talk to someone .

Because after the mission was over, his friends were leaving. Jacob and Evie had to get back to London, back to herding Rooks and planning her wedding to Henry. Raton had to return to Boston, to the bureau that needed him, and Edward was itching to get back out on the open ocean again. They’d all stay in contact, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. After the mission, Connor would no longer be an assassin. He’d already made the choice. He’d give up his blade and go back to being an everyday detective.

But how normal can life really go back to being after you learn about things like Templars and Assassins and ancient civilizations and Pieces of Eden? He was pretty sure nothing would ever be normal again. Everything he saw would be viewed in a completely different lens. At least, if he made it out alive. Mentally, he went over the plan that Raton had finalized the night before, thanks to Ned’s spies.

During morning office hours at the Cyberlife Tower, Adrian Norman sat at his desk and did paperwork. Raton and Edward would create a distraction at the front desk with smoke bombs while Evie hacked into the control panel for the building, locking the CEO in his office. Connor and Jacob would crawl through the vents and the British man would assassinate the man while Connor went through his private computer and files, to find out what they knew about the location of the piece of Eden. Meanwhile, thirteen groups of Ned’s smugglers would commit simultaneous robberies across the city. Hopefully that would be enough to distract the authorities.

To keep Hank away and safe.

Connor rolled out of his chair and peeked into the lieutenant’s room, where he was passed out soundly.

“Hank, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this. Stay safe. I... I love you.”

There was no response from the sleeping man, but Sumo bent down and licked his shoes. The android leaned over and ruffled his fur.

“Watch over him for me. I hope I see you later.”

 

Even at their initial meeting place, a vacant building downtown, there was a lot of preparation to do. Ned supplied them with crates of weapons, everything from smoke bombs to poison darts. Jacob was shining his hidden blade, way to excited to be the one to deal the final blow, while Evie prepared flash drives containing viruses in case she couldn’t hack the controls. Raton was giving Ned some unnecessarily specific deer care instructions, as he had been put on Karahkwa duty. Edward had sobered up the night before, and was equipping himself with extra bags of bullets. Connor arrived last, wearing his robes except for the cape, which he didn’t put on until he was in the building. They got ready in near perfect silence, even Jacob making no attempt to start up a conversation.

The clock hit seven, and they all got up. It was time.

“Everyone,” Connor addressed. “I just wanted to say that, however this turns out, I had fun with you all.”

They all nodded solemnly before Edward spoke up.

“Christ, guys. This ain’t our funeral yet. Come on. This is cheesy and stupid, but here goes.”

He put one hand forward, and Jacob smiled, placing another on top. Soon, each of them had placed a left hand in the pile.

“Three, two, one...”

“Assassins!”

 

Connor crouched behind cover with Jacob in the back of Cyberlife tower.

“I hate this place,” he whispered. “Pretty sure nothing good can happen here.”

“Let’s hope you’re wrong,” the man sighed.

Connor’s page buzzed in his pocket, and he shoved a hand inside, feeling it. A message from channel one.

Ezio.

<Don’t go> was all it said, but more started coming in.

<Stay away>

<Don’t go>

<Hide>

“What’s going on?” Jacob asked. “He’s telling me too hide you somewhere.”

“He’s telling me to stay hidden.” Connor frowned, pursing his lips. “We prepared so much... I don’t care what he says. We’re going anyway.”

“That’s my boy,” Jacob smiled. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I sure hope not.”

He received another buzz, but this one was from Evie. The letter “n.” Her signal. Connor and Jacob flanked the building, listening to the commotion as the Kenways did some of their best work: causing mass disruption.

Jacob unscrewed the vent and crawled through first, the android following close behind. They had studied the system together for hours, and could navigate those vents in their sleep. Making their way slowly to the CEO’s office, they creaked the vent to their final destination open. Jacob peered over, watching as Norman struggled against his door, desperately trying to get it open. But it wouldn’t, thanks to Evie. He was trapped, no internet, no cell reception, no escape. So Jacob lunged...

and was slammed into the ground. The man sneered, standing over him.

“Did you think I didn’t know you were coming for me? Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared? I didn’t think a Frye would be so naive.”

Connor jumped from his hiding place, tackling the man and trying to get in a blow, but he couldn’t, missing over and over again before being thrown out beside Jacob, who was reaching for a smoke bomb when their target stomped on his chest, the crack of at least one of his ribs hear loud and clear before his hand dropped and his eyes shut.

“Jacob!” Connor screeched, reaching for his friend when his hand was pulled away and he was thrown across the room, hitting the wall.

“You are so stupid,” the man scoffed.

“What do you want with it?”

“What?”

“The Piece of Eden,” the android growled. “What do you want with it?”

“The same thing the last person who wielded it used it for. Knowledge. Control. Efficiency.”

“And who was that?”

“You already know,” the man teased, “don’t you?” His face shifted into one of genuine surprise. “You have no clue. Christ, isn't it obvious? Nobody is that smart, not naturally. Nobody could think of something as silly as bio-components without some help.”

Of course. It made sense. The last wielder was none other than Elijah Kamski. That’s why Connor could do a leap of faith with ease: if the assassins came from Isu blood, he came from Isu data.

“So you think he hid it somewhere in the tower?” he yelled. “That’s why you came here?”

“We used to think that. But while he’s not a genius, that bitch is clever. We don’t have a clue where he put it, but we’ve practically turned the place inside out looking for it. Then we had a lead: he wrote down where he put it and hid the clues inside a precursor box.”

That’s why they wanted it so bad.

“Fortunately, the answer came right to us,” the Templar continued. “It took almost nothing to convince Archivist Malik’s assistant to give us the transcripts earlier this morning. We know exactly where it is.”

Connor stood up again, aiming his gun at the man.

“I’ll shoot. I will.”

“No, you won’t,” the man surmised. “It’s not loaded and I—“ he flourished a small pouch in his hands “—relieved you of the bullets.”

But Connor wasn't about to give in that easily, and after a few seconds of looking down, resorted to chucking the handgun at the man’s head. It hit him square in the forehead, and he reeled.

“You moron!” he screamed. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? You were warned not to come here.”

The glass of the windows shattered as someone familiar burst through.

Ezio Auditore tackled the man to the ground, turning to yell at the android.

“You should have listened! You should have stayed away! Now—“

One swift kick to the head knocked him out.

“He’s right,” the Templar chided. “You’re an idiot, Connor. Isn’t that what they call you, RK800?”

“That’s my name. Connor is my name.”

“Your designation,” the man scoffed. “Nothing more. But you.. you are so much more. Don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t!” He tackled the man, attempting to pin down his arms, but failed, and was pushed against the wooden desk.

“Assassins. Your eyes are always open but you never truly see.”

“We see more than you.”

“No, you don’t. Tell me, RK800. Why was coming here a bad idea?”

He stood, mechanical legs shaking and unsteady.

“Because you could kill me.”

He clicked his tongue.

“No no no, you don’t understand at all. You shouldn’t have come because you brought us exactly what we need.”

“What?” he yelled, taking as many swings as he could before being thrown to the ground again. “I’d never give you a Piece of Eden, even if I had one, which I don’t!”

“Exactly. You don’t have one.”

“What the hell are you trying to say?” he questioned.

The man just smirked, grabbing the android by the throat.

“You don’t have a Piece of Eden, RK800. You _are_ one.”

 

“Enough!” a voice rang out. It was Ezio, lunging up from his position to bury his hidden blade deep in the man’s neck. His eyes widened in shock.

“But you...”

“Fainting is all too easy to fake. I’m a fantastic actor.”

He gracefully lied the man down on the floor, closing his glassed-over eyes.

“Resquiescat in Pace,” he whispered, standing up to meet Connor’s eyes. “You probably have questions.”

“What does he mean?” he yelled desperately. “I am no ancient artifact! I am an android!”

“That you are,” he confirmed. “But you’re no ordinary android. Kamski knew the Templars were after him, after his Apple. So he hid it in the place he trusted most: one of his own creations.” He tenderly placed his hand on the left side of Connor’s chest. “Here.”

“It’s... inside of me?”

“Yes. It is built into your systems, and we cannot remove it. Perhaps it is for the best. Now you, and the assassins are the only ones who know, and it isn’t often things like this acquire their own self protection. Meet me back at the place you were this morning. I’ll go into further detail on your future. ”

Connor was so busy he nearly forgot about the man lying in the corner.

“Jacob!” he cried, rushing to his side. He was still breathing, good. One quick scan revealed that he had two broken ribs and a bruised lung, but if they got him to a hospital soon, he’d live.

There was a presence behind Connor, and he reached out his hand to it.

“Can you take his legs, Ezio—“

But it wasn't Ezio. Connor found himself pressed against a wall, hands behind his back and in cuffs.

“Who the fuck is Etzeeo,” a familiar voice growled. “You’re under arrest for like, so much murder.”

Gavin Reed. The doors were unlocked and open, and law enforcement was pouring into the building. Of course Reed had to be the one to check the CEO’s office. But he wasn’t alone. Despite not being able to see, as his face was getting way too intimate with a wall, he heard a pattern of footsteps he knew way too well.

“You caught him,” Hank exclaimed, sounding impressed.

“Yup. Someone let his guard down,” the detective sneered.

Hank spun him around, and Connor bowed his head, keeping everything covered with his hood.

“Fucking coward,” he spit. “Do you think hiding behind a cape and hood makes you some sort of vigilante superhero? Well it doesn’t. It just makes you a fanatical murderer in a stupid outfit.”

The android remained silent.

“What, no cultic crap to spout this time? No pleading for me to let you go? I bet you’ll be a lot let silent once we unmask you. You’ll beg, won’t you? Beg to be released? But that’s not going to happen. Do you know what happens to androids who kill people?”

Silence again.

“Do you?”

He nodded slightly.

“You’re scared. Good. Be scared. Even if you stay silent, my partner will get a confession out of you eventually.”

Gavin smirked.

“Damn, Hank. That fervor isn’t something I usually see with you. So go ahead. You do it. Rip of that hood and show me who this pathetic bitch is.”

“Please,” Connor whispered, ducking his head lower. “Don’t.”

“So he speaks. Why shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t want to,” he pleaded. “Trust me. You don’t.”

“Oh I very much do.”

His calloused hands grabbed the edge of the hood and in one swift motion, pulled it down across the back of his head.

Connor closed his eyes. He couldn't look at that face. But it was too late. He caught a glimpse of the only family he’d ever had, slack-jawed and brows creased, eyes blown wide as he took a step back.

There were so many tones in his voice, and Connor heard them all. ‘You betrayed me.’ ‘It was you.’ ‘How could you?’ Laced with disappointment and anger and bargaining and guilt. All of this, wrapped up in a singular word.

 

“Connor?”


	6. Brave New World

Acoustic guitar chords echoed through the truck as it rumbled down the interstate. Ratonhnhaké:ton‘s face was set in a deep frown, eyebrows creased in worry. Every few minutes, he glanced over at the passenger seat, where the android gazed out the window. Connor was looking, but not really seeing. While his eyes gazed out at the landscape, who knew where his mind was? He hadn’t talked the whole trip.

“Connor?” the man murmured. “I’m going to stop for gas.”

He just nodded.

The assassin sighed, pulling over into a gas station. He opened the door to the back seat first, checking on the baby deer sleeping in the seat. Karahkwa was peacefully oblivious, out like a light. Good. He began filling up his truck, keeping a close eye on Connor, before finally deciding to speak.

“Hey. What happened back there?”

The android shrugged. He’d been in the same position for two days, sitting in the truck even while Raton slept in different motels.

“Evie says that Jacob’s doing alright,” he announced. “He should recover quickly as long as he doesn’t do anything too terribly stupid.” More silence, but he at least looked a little relieved.“Connor, you're scaring me.”

“Sorry.” Finally, he spoke, but still avoided all eye contact.

“...That’s alright,” he lied, getting back into the car. “Let’s hit the road. Only a few more hours.... we should arrive tomorrow.” The android nodded to signal that he heard the man, but didn't say anything else. Then Raton hit the gas and they were off again.

 

“I told you before, and I’ll tell you again,” Hank grumbled as he recounted his story for the tenth time. “When we got there, Norman was dead and Bluebird was standing over him. There was a smoke bomb, and he was gone. Can I please get back to work now?”

The interrogator frowned, nodding, but the lieutenant hadn’t even waited for permission before heading for the door.

“Hey,” another voice rang out in the hallway. “Hank.” Gavin was scowling, arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he fibbed, walking even faster.

The detective clicked his tongue.

“Your report is missing a pretty crucial detail. Don’t worry. I won’t correct your little... oversight. But I do have a question. Why protect him?”

He didn't even say a name, but he didn't have to. Hank clenched his fists.

“He’s long gone, y’know. By the time I got home, all his stuff was MIA.”

“Exactly. Innocent people don’t run.”

“Reed, you know that isn’t always true!”

The man shrugged.

“All I’m saying is that he seems pretty damn guilty of a lot of murder.”

“Two. Bluebird has two confirmed kills.”

“And the mysterious murders all over the city? Who do you think those were?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know. Just... get out of my face.”

Gavin sighed.

“So you've given up.”

The man whipped his head around.

“What?”

“Have you even tried to find him?”

“You better believe I’ve tried. And I’ll keep trying. But it’s no use. He’s off the grid.”

“What would you even do if you found him? Just put him under arrest?”

Hank sighed.

“No. I don’t think I would.” Gavin didn't say anything, just quietly raised a eyebrow. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I... trusted him. I want to hear him out.”

“Then we arrest him. What? Cool motive or not, it’s still murder.”

“Still,” Hank sighed. “I can’t help but feel like there’s something big that we’re missing. It’s right under our noses, I can feel it.”

Gavin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Christ, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Alright, Hank. 900 and I will help you.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna help you. Find Connor. Duh.”

 

Raton fiddled with the keys to his apartment, Connor standing close behind him and holding Karahkwa gently. He opened the door.

“Come on in. It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it’s home.”

It was small, but he had made it cozy, with an almost cabin-like vibe. The walls were decorated with framed pressed flowers and leaves, and almost everything fit a natural color scheme. Connor sat on the couch and set down the little deer, who took in the sights on her wobbly legs. Raton, however, finally decided that he was going to get some answers out of his friend. He joined him on the couch.

“Connor... it’s been five days. You can talk to me. What happened back there?”

“... He knows.”

“What?” the man asked. “I don’t understand. Who knows what?”

The android curled up into a ball, resting his chin on his knees.

“Hank. He knows what I am. Who I am.”

“And who is that?”

“A murderer. A killer.”

The older man hummed.

“Tell me, Connor, if Norman got his hands on your Apple of Eden, how many people would suffer?”

“... millions.”

“And how many suffered because of his death?”

“A lot less.”

He nodded.

“We don’t kill for the sake of it, my friend. We kill because it is a necessary sacrifice for the greater good. I’m not fond of it either but... we have no choice. We know more than the common people, we can’t just stand by and do nothing. At least, not in good conscience.”

Connor sighed.

“I guess you're right... I just can’t get it out of my head. The way he looked at me.”

He rested a hand against the android’s back.

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

His phone rang and he picked it up, listening to the person on the other end before turning to the android and smirking.

“Come with me. There are some people I want you to meet.”

 

The apartment was about as inconspicuous as you could get, aside from a small assassin’s symbol scratched into the door handle. So this was the Boston bureau.

Raton opened the door and immediately fell over: someone had tackled him. The girl’s black hair spiked up like a mane around her face, and her headphones hung around her neck. She stood, staring at Connor for a second before squealing and wrapping him in a massive hug.

“You must be Connor! Kenway told us all about you!” She grabbed his face and squished it in a few different directions. “Oooh, you really are well made. Boop!” She poked the tip of his nose with her index finger. Grabbing his hand, she led him into the living room. The place was, in short, a mess. Papers and tablets were everywhere, tacked to walls and connected by red string. A man in a white hoodie was sprawled across one of the desks, asleep and drooling, while another man, this one in a grey sweater, typed furiously on a keyboard.

“Rebecca,” Raton sighed, “you’re going to give him whiplash.” He sat down at a desk that was presumably his. “Shaun, your mess is spilling over.”

The bespectacled man frowned.

“I need space, Kenway. You’re a field operative, but info is all I do so can you just let me have this? Good? Good.”

“Ignore him!” Rebecca laughed, wrapping an arm around the android. “Shaun’s a bit of a grump.” She grabbed a water bottle and threw it at the sleeping man, who fell onto the floor screaming.

“Beccs! What the fuck!” he yelled, standing up and running a hand through his closely cut hair.

“Des, be nice. Android’s here,” she pouted. The man scoffed.

“Desmond,” he introduced. “I’m head of field stuff around here. Would’ve gone up to Detroit myself, but to be totally honest, I really didn’t want to.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” the android said bluntly. “You remind me of someone else I know. Perhaps I will feel at home here.”

“I hope so!” Rebecca squealed.

Raton just gave him a small smile.

 

“Did you find him yet?” Hank asked, leaning over Reed’s desk.

“You’ve been asking me that every day for three entire months, Hank. No, we haven’t found him yet. Chill.”

The lieutenant frowned, sitting down.

“How are you looking for him anyway?”

Gavin leaned over 900’s shoulder, pointing at a computer screen.

“Finally you ask. Ninesies has footage from almost every security camera in the USA. We’re scanning for his face.”

“What if he has a doppelgänger?” Hank asked, resting his chin in his hand. “Wouldn’t that make it hard?”

“We already found one of those,” the android commented. “Poor Garrett. I hope his kids are doing alright.”

Hank somehow knew that was a story he didn’t want to go into.

“What if he left the U.S.? What will happen then?”

The android frowned, his brows furrowing.

“We don’t have jurisdiction for that. If he has left the country, we will most likely never see him again.”

“Way to be optimistic, nines,” Gavin groaned. “Great job. Just keep trying to find him, okay?” The android nodded and turned back to type furiously.

“Anything?”

“Stop asking, Hank!” Gavin growled, crossing his arms. “And nobody up the ladder better find out about this. Or else I’ll make your life hell.”

“You already do.”

“Stop bickering,” 900 commanded, sneering. “You’re acting like children, both of you! I may have found a match.”

Hank immediately leaned over.

“Really? Is it him?”

He shrugged.

“He’s wearing a dust mask, so I can’t entirely tell, but the face shape and eyes are a very likely match. Do you think it’s worth investigating!”

“Of course! Where is he?”

“Boston, Massachusetts.”

 

Hank decided he didn’t like Boston. As soon as he stepped out of the plane, the scent of fish hit him like a train. The whole city smelled like a dock, salty and gross. The humidity didn't help either, sticking to his skin like glue.

Gavin decided he didn't like Boston either. Every other sign was trying to teach him something about a bunch of old dead guys who founded the country or whatever. Gavin wasn't a great student back in school, and he sure as hell wasn’t starting now.

“Why is there so much water?” Hank whined, tugging his suitcase out of a taxi.

“Detroit is literally on a river,” Gavin groaned.

“This is different. This is the ocean. I hate the ocean.”

“Why?” Their android innocently asked.

“It’s salty and hot and dumb. Who cares why I don’t like it? I just don’t,” he growled, terrifying the poor hotel bellboy, who stepped out of their way as they entered the building. “Let’s just find who we’re looking for and get out.”

Gavin frowned.

“What makes you think it’ll be that easy? He ran away. I don’t think he’ll just let you drag him back. He’s too prideful for that.”

He had a point, for once. Connor left in a hurry, leaving nothing behind. Who was to say he didn’t intend on living in Boston for however long his battery lasted?

“Hmph. I’m bringing him back even if I have to tie him up myself,” he grumbled. The three travelers entered the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor. The hallway was carpeted with an ugly yellow-and-red print that assaulted their eyes.

“Our room is 205,” Gavin groaned, unlocking and opening the door. It was a standard hotel room, with a wonderful view of a solid brick wall out the window.

“Scenic,” Hank mused sarcastically, setting down his bags. “Question. Why did you come along? I could’ve come here on my own.”

“Bored,” he replied, shrugging. “But if you snore, I will kill you.”

“Dually noted. Wanna grab a bite? But no fish.”

Gavin pulled up a map on his phone.

“There’s a cafe one block that-a-way—“ he pointed with his finger “—and they’ll let nine in. I don’t know about you, but I could go for a coffee.”

“Can I spike it?”

“I don’t care.”

 

The cafe was quaint filled with the scent of coffee as people chatted back and forth. Hank would even call it charming... if he was the type of person to use that word, which he was not. A barista caught his eye, but quickly turned away. Was he that scary? Who knew.

“Hank,” Gavin urged, “Does that guy look familiar to you? Either I’m having major dejavu, or I’ve seen him before.”

The lieutenant looked closer. Yes, he looked very familiar. Dark skin with a strong jaw and a scar on his cheek...

“He was at the gala,” he whispered. “That man was at the gala. But he said he was a reporter? Why is he at a coffee shop in Boston?”

Gavin growled.

“I was too drunk to notice he was also Connor’s ‘lumberjack friend’. Wait... Wasn’t he with someone?”

“Yes, a brunette girl, right? You tried to hit on her.”

The detective clenched his teeth.

“I don’t think that was a girl, Hank. Did anything about her look... familiar?”

Hank didn't answer, but he didn't have to. They both knew.

“So if he’s here...”

“He knows where Connor is,” Gavin finished.

“So we follow... where did he go?”

The man had vanished. They looked at each other slowly before bolting outside and running around to the back of the building. The barista was running in the opposite direction, but Gavin caught up quickly, trying to tackle him to the ground. The man threw him off, and the detective hit the dirt.

“Gahh!” he yelled. “He’s strong!”

Hank and 900 rushed over.

“You are not severely injured,” the android stated firmly.

“I know!’ he snapped, getting up.

“But you lost him,” the lieutenant scolded. “That was our one lead and you lost him.”

Gavin wagged his finger.

“Nuh uh uh, Hanky-panky. I might be a dick, but I’m also a detective.” He laughed to himself. “Ha. Dicktective. Have a look-see here.” He took his phone out of his pocket and waved it around. It was opened to the GPS, with a small dot bleeping on the screen. “I wasn’t trying to take him down. All i wanted to do was slip a tracker in his pocket. So, let’’s follow.”

 

Raton was home early. Something was very wrong if Raton was home early. Connor put down the book he was reading and stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

The taller man grimaced.

“You’re really not gonna like this. I saw someone familiar at the cafe.”

“Who?”

“Your cop friends.”

Connor winced. Of course. Nothing every went right for him, did it? But he had been preparing for this. Kind of.

“I’m not going to run, Raton,” he stated firmly. “I owe it to them to explain my choices. If they cuff me and have me dismantled, so be it.”

“No!” he exclaimed. “I’d never let them do that! Have you forgotten what you are?”

He touched his own chest gently.

“A piece of—“

“You’re my friend!” Raton interrupted. “I won’t let you just give yourself up like that!”

He looked down at his feet.

“Raton... there’s not much I can do. We are not above the law—“

“We know better than the law! The law is unaware to the truth of the world! But we know! We know what is at stake! That’s why we have to stick together, through everything. That’s why we care about each other.”

Connor huffed.

“Fine. Let me explain myself to them. If they do anything drastic, feel free to intervene. But you are not to cause them any harm.”

He nodded in agreement.

“They’re coming here, by the way. Your friend thinks he’s very sneaky.” He pulled a tracking device out of his pocket. “Tell him his stealth needs work.”

 

The tension in the room was so thick that it would take an industrial chainsaw to slice through it. Five men saw around a coffee table in silence. Every once in a while Gavin would cough, begging someone, anyone to speak. But no one did. Hank’s tired eyes were trained on Connor, who was looking down at the cup of coffee he held in his hands. He couldn't drink it, and didn't intend to try, but he needed something to do with his hands and had dropped his quarter under the couch. It would be too awkward to try and retrieve it now. 900 stared at a wall emptily, but to his knowledge, Raton was two feet to the left of where he actually was. Raton, in turn, was wondering what was so interesting about his living room wall. Yeah, it was nice, but it wasn’t enthralling.

Gavin coughed again, glaring at the lieutenant.

“Say something, stupid,” he growled under his breath.

“What do I say?” he exclaimed. “Why did you leave me? Why did you murder people? Why did you start a cult on Twitter?”

Connor’s hands gripped the mug tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for not explaining myself sooner.”

Hank leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“So you don’t regret killing those people?”

He shook his head.

“The only thing I regret is keeping you in the dark. But I have found that in order to serve the light, it is best to work in the shadows.”

Gavin scoffed.

“The hell is that supposed to mean? Enough with the cryptic mumbo-jumbo. Explain yourself. Now.”

“Alright. Let’s start at the very beginning.” The android stood and began pacing around the room.

“Humans were not the first to occupy the earth. Before you, there were the Isu. Seventy-seven-thousand years ago, they were wiped out by a Great Catastrophe. Before that, however, they created the Human race as slaves. These slave rose up against their masters and started a war led by two beings known as Adam and Eve. They were hybrids, born of mixing between Isu and mankind, and as such they had advanced abilities, such as extraordinary flexibility, strength, and a sixth sense that could detect other’s intentions towards them. Thanks to Adam, Eve, and the Great Catastrophe, the Isu were wiped from the earth. However, they left several artifacts behind. These objects, called Pieces of Eden, are incredibly powerful. They can provide limitless knowledge, heal wounds, or control minds. That means that under no circumstances can they end up in the wrong hands. There are those who want to use these to control the human population. They are known as the Templars. But there are also those dedicated to stopping them and securely containing the Pieces where they can do no harm. They—we are the Assassins.”

After a few seconds of silence, Gavin spoke.

“So you... joined a cult?”

“It’s not a cult,” Raton corrected. “Anyone can leave at any time and we follow no religious doctrine.”

“You’re still a cult,” the detective insisted, and the assassin elected to ignore him. “I don’t care what you believe. Cool motive, still murder.”

“It was necessary!” Connor yelled, sending everyone in the room reeling. “Would you rather be a mindless slave? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“What are you implying?” Hank retorted. “That the CEO had one of these Eden thingies?”

He nodded.

“He almost got this hands on it. Almost got his hands on me.”

“You?”

Raton cut in, holding up a scan they did of Connor’s inner mechanisms.

“Kamski used this to help create the androids. After realizing the Templars were after him, he hid it inside one of his own creations, inside Connor.” Sure enough, there was a golden ball etched with ancient marked nestled inside the android.

“Over the months, I have even learned to tap into it’s power,” Connor mumbled, “but I don’t like doing it. Emergencies only.”

“Mind control?” Gavin sneered. “Somehow I find that hard to believe, along with your entire damn story. I thought androids were supposed to be rational, not believe in fairy tales.”

“There is evidence.”

“Show me.”

“We don’t have any here.” It was true. The bureau was filled with a artifacts dating back to the crusades, manuscripts and scrolls detailing use of pieces of Eden.

“Don’t have any here?” the detective mocked. “Because, and this part is important, it isn’t real. None of this is real. You’re delusional, both of you!”

Connor sighed. He supposed this was emergency enough.

“Gavin, could you do me a favor?”

“The hell?”

Connor simply nodded, and Gavin stood up, reached under the couch, and retrieved the quarter he dropped earlier, placing it in the android’s outstretched hand. He blinked one, two, three times. He screamed.

“Jesus christ, what the fuck? I... I... What did I...? It was like... in my own goddamn.... Holy shit..... Never do that shit again! I’m begging you!”

Hank’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Did you just... control him?”

“I told you, I don’t like using it. It takes a toll on their mind that I don’t like inflicting. However, it is sometimes necessary.”

“This is real. It’s real,” Gavin stuttered, his body swaying.

RK900 grabbed the man and steadied him.

“He is going into shock. I will lay him on the ground. RK800, elevate his legs twelve inches from ground level. Prepare to begin CPR if necessary.”

“He’ll be fine. Probably,” Hank groaned. “What the hell was that? The power of the Eden-thingy?”

“Less than one percent of its power,” Connor corrected, setting the detective’s legs up on a footstool. “I can tap into as much as five percent.” Hank silently prayed that he would never see that.

“So,” he sighed, “All this Isu bullshit is real? The world’s history is a lie or whatever?”

“Not a lie,” Raton comforted. “You just have a surface level understanding of it. I can teach you more, if you’d like.” He shook his head.

“Nah. I’m way too sober for that shit right now. So Connor, all of the new “friends” you made...”

“Mostly assassins,” he finished. “Even Edward. Not Leonardo, though. He’s an ally.”

“So now what do we do?” Hank growled. “Murder isn’t exactly the most legal thing in the book.”

“We do what we have done for centuries: we use our contacts.”

“And who would that be?”

Connor frowned, blinking blankly as one second of silence stretched into thirty.

“Oh! Me!” Hank exclaimed.

“Yes, you!”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, come up with a sufficient excuse for me to be transferred to the BPD, of course.”

His breath hitched.

“Transferred? Like, permanently? To Boston?”

The android nodded.

“Well, of course. There’s not an Assassin’s bureau in Detroit, so there’s no reason for me to stay there.”

“No reason?” Hank nearly shouted, not realizing how loud he was being. “Is murdering Templars all that matters to you?”

“Well, in the grand scheme of things, yes,” he stated. “I don’t know if you've noticed, but nation-wide mind-control is not the most desirable of outcomes, especially for a nation as politically powerful as the United States.”

“Oh,” Hank sighed, resting back in his chair and pretending not to be hurt. “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. I’ll make sure your transfer forms go through.”

He smiled softly.

“Thank you Hank. Your kindness will not go unrewarded.”

Raton nodded, agreeing.

“Now let’s try to wake your friend up. He’s a bit of an eyesore on the decor.”

 

Connor carried Hank’s bag back to their taxi and closed the trunk. They had spent three days in Boston, learning about the history of the assassins from the bureau. Shaun and Rebecca had even managed to repair 900’s coding and he was working almost perfectly. But the time to say goodbye always came, and this was it for Hank.

“Connor,” he grunted, shrugging on his jacket. “Good luck with all your... Assassinning. You’ll do good.” He pat the android’s shoulder awkwardly, but Connor pulled him into a hug.

“Do me a favor, Hank. Miss me.”

“... I will.”

He got into the car and didn’t look back, afraid of what he might do.

“Gonna cry, old man?” Gavin teased.

For once, he had no retort, no snark remark. He just sighed.

“Save it for Detroit.”

 

—

 

Epilogue

 

Hank’s day wasn't going well. Hell, did it ever?

“Why does God hate me?” he growled, shooting madly at the serial killer he’d been tracking for months. Turns out he was on a crazy amount of steroids and could probably rip through a goddamn wall if he wanted to. Holy shit. Why was it always the crazy ones he ended up tailing?

Every time he fire, he missed, until he realized he had made a very bad logistical move.

He was trapped in a corner.

Back pressed against the brick, he shot until a telltale click told him he was out of bullets.

“Shit.”

The murderer came closer and closer, ready and willing to crush Hank’s skull into a million teeny tiny pieces. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the release of death, the pearly gates, the hellfire, whatever he faced. But the scythe of the reaper never came. Instead his would-be killer screamed, dropping to the floor in agony as three throwing knifes stuck out of his neck in three very uncomfortable looking places. As he writhed in a pool of his own blood, Hank looked up to see a very familiar figure watching over him. The cloaked man began to turn and walk away.

“Wait!” The Lieutenant yelled. “Why are you here? Where are you—“

But he was already gone.

 

By the next day, Hank was starting to think he’d imagined it, that it had all been a dream. But nothing was ever that simple, and when Hank sat down at this desk the next morning, he found that the one across from it was occupied.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” the android greeting, smiling— or was that a smirk? “It’s been a while.”

“A year,” he confirmed,”and you just show up? For what, a little get-together?”

“Transferred back, actually,” he corrected. “I’ll be around for quite a while.”

“No!” Gavin lamented from his desk, but Connor only rolled his eyes.

“What about—“ Hank tried to ask very obvious questions, but was cut off by the press of a synthetic finger to his lips.

“Not here, Hank. Not here.”

Just a second later his phone lit up with an address.

He headed immediately to it as soon as he went on lunch break. There was no time to waste, and as he made his way there, he could swear he caught flashes of Connor following him from the rooftops. The address was an old warehouse, in a well-lit industrial part of town. The streets were bare and all was quiet, but as soon as he opened the door, everything was filled with light and laughter. The people inside turned and looked at him, almost none of them familiar, but if Connor trusted them then so did he.

“Hank,” Connor introduced from behind him, “See the fruits of my labor. I fought for a year to make this happen, argued with higher-ups and almost got kicked from the brotherhood more than once. But finally, we saw eye to eye, and I made this present for you, and the good of the city.”

“The city? What are you talking about?” he racked his brain for ideas. “Wait... Connor... you didn’t... did you?” The android just smiled, sweeping his hand to gesture to the interior as if it was the finest thing in the world. And to him, it likely was.

“Lieutenant Anderson, welcome to the Detroit Assassin’s Bureau.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap it’s over! This was... a journey, to say the least. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I’m kinda sad it’s over.


End file.
